


All The Devils Are Here

by Marlon



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Blood and Injury, Established Relationship, Irish Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Original Character(s), Romance, mysterious happenings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-08-20 17:43:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20231824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marlon/pseuds/Marlon
Summary: Armitage, the bravest and wisest sorcerer of the legendary Tuatha De Danann, the old gods of Ireland, just wants to live a life of quiet contemplation in modern-day Dublin with his consort, the storm god, Kylo Ren. Their idyllic life is disrupted when an old and formidable enemy rears its head and threatens not only them but the safety and security of Ireland itself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my exciting sequel to my 2018 big bang entry, Beneath the Sky of Stars. I've spent about eight months working on this one and I hope you all enjoy reading it, I think it's rather exciting and dramatic. It's set about a year after the first story, so they've been reunited in Dublin for a year and Kylo has healed from his injuries. I don't think it's necessary to have read the first story but if anything is unclear, just let me know and I can fill you in!
> 
> A big thank you to Christoph, Copper River, and JustOneBigBee for their advice and encouragement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now featuring gorgeous art by @xylavie - thank you! There's so much beautiful art for this story, I'm spoiled!

When Nemed and his family went into the north of the world, they could scarce understand how that decision would change their lives in so many ways, forever.

As they wandered lost at sea with the days turn into weeks, and then into months, Nemed and his family eventually came under the care and guidance of the goddess Danu. In her infinite wisdom, the goddess sent them to train and be educated in the four great cities of the north - Falias, Gorias, Murias, and Finias. In these ancient centres of learning, Nemed and his family became skilled in the arts of magic, science and architecture, music, and even necromancy. When they were ready to return to Eire, they were no longer simply the people of Nemed.

They had become so much more. They had become gods.

Now known as the Tuatha Dé Danann, the people of Nemed returned to Ireland with much pomp and ceremony. Led by their king Nuada, the gods arrived in great clouds of mist and chaos. With three hundred ships, they landed at Connacht and then burned those ships so that they would never retreat. The smoke from the fires covered the land in an impenetrable fog, causing the sun to darken for three days.

However, Eire had not sat empty awaiting the new gods arrival. In the two hundred years that had passed since Nemed and his family went into the north, the island had been invaded by the Fir Bolg, the men of the bag. To reclaim their homeland, the Tuatha Dé Danann sent their champion, Bres the Beautiful, to negotiate with Sreng, the representative of the Fir Bolg; Bres demanded that the Fir Bolg share the island with the gods, or be resigned to a fight.

The Fir Bolg choose to battle.

Both sides prepared their weapons then marched through the rolling, windswept fields to the Pass of Balgatan where the battle would be joined. The bloody battle raged for four days during which the Tuatha Dé Danann suffered a calamity; the king, Nuada, lost his right hand in combat with Sreng, yet despite this grievous misfortune, they still managed to gain ascendancy. Again, they offered terms to the Fir Bolg - leave the island, share the island with us, or continue the fight.

When the Fir Bolg indicated that they would continue the battle. Sreng, overly confident in his chances, challenged the wounded Nuada to single combat. Nuada agreed, but only if the contest would be fair and for that to happen, Sreng would have to tie one arm behind his back.

Sreng rejected this condition.

In an effort to end the bloodshed, the Tuatha Dé Danann offered one of the five provinces to the Fir Bolg and they chose Connacht. This is how peace and prosperity were brought to the island.

The conflict between the Tuatha Dé Danann and the Fir Blog became known as the First Battle of Mag Tuired and so it passed into legend.

\----

Sunrise in early April isn’t the ideal time to have the windows open, but the songbirds had been so insistent to go outside that Armitage could hardly refuse them. Perched in the still-skeletal branches of the yew tree in the front garden, its leaves only barely beginning to unfurl, they sang merrily to each other as they welcome the day. The sun has just risen but the day already promises to be fine; the aquamarine of the sky is shot through with gold and pink, uninterrupted save for the barest suggestion of clouds well off on the horizon.

A small gust of wind blows in through the open window, ruffling the curtains and Armitage’s hair, tickling along the back of his neck. He sighs as he snuggles back into his cozy gray robe - it’s finely-spun wool and lined with some sort of fleece that feels heavenly on his naked skin. In the bedroom, Kylo shows some signs of life as the bedsprings protest as he rolls over.

Armitage smiles.

They’ve been reunited for about a year now and every day is a blessing.

Kylo rumbles again in the bedroom, causing Armitage to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud. Instead, he turns his attention to his cup of oolong. He takes the final sip then turns the teacup over on the saucer to allow the last of the liquid to drain away.

He turns the cup upright again, placing the saucer on the windowsill. Then making sure the handle is pointed towards himself, he turns the cup three times clockwise. He begins to scrutinize the leaves, starting at the handle and working his way towards the bottom of the cup. He holds the cup close to his face.

“Hmm.” He mutters to himself.

Tilting the cup this way and that, he confirms his reading.

Reuniting the cup with its saucer on the sill, he uncurls from the chair as Kylo yawns loudly from the bedroom. Armitage slips inside the door; the room is fairly dim, the only light is provided by a skylight in the ceiling. The morning sunlight illuminates the clothing stand that holds Kylo’s battle-scarred armour; Armitage glances at it as he allows the robe to slither from his shoulders.

He steps towards the bed as Kylo arches into a deep stretch as his eyes flutter open. Kylo, still soft with sleep, smiles at Armitage’s approach; flipping the blankets aside and opening his arms, he beckons him closer. Armitage climbs up onto the bed and swinging his leg over, straddles Kylo’s hips and braces himself with his hands on Kylo’s broad chest.

“Good morning, love.”

“You look beautiful this morning, babe, better than my dreams.” Kylo’s voice is raspy with sleep but his eyes crinkle at the corners with pleasure at seeing Armitage. His one golden eye glitters in the dull light of the bedroom.

“Today is the day.” Armitage trails his fingertips down Kylo’s chest towards his belly. He tickles the skin there. “The signs indicate today is the day I’ll find the right replacement for my broken wand.”

Kylo places one hand on Armitage’s thigh while the other skims over Armitage’s soft belly and inches up his body towards his chest. Armitage sighs into the touch; Kylo’s hands are so large and warm. Kylo’s hand slips around the nape of Armitage’s neck to gently encourage him to come down to greet Kylo with a kiss.

“All signs point to today, hmm?” Kylo rumbles. He then carefully rolls them, mindful not to impale himself on Armitage’s antlers, and settles himself between Armitage’s long legs. “Does it have to be right this very minute?” He places a kiss on Armitage’s trembling belly as he slides lower.

Armitage gasps, his hands automatically tangling themselves in Kylo’s sleep-tumbled curls.

“Not right this minute, love, we have some time.”

“Good.”

\----

Armitage leads Kylo from their small flat along Thomas Street, past the chunks of ruins that make up the remains of the old city wall and turns onto High Street.

“Why are we just walking there,” Kylo complains. “Can’t you just open a pathway from our flat?”

Armitage whistles for the songbirds to keep close, and they oblige by perching obediently on his antlers. He clutches Kylo’s hand tightly as they weave their way through the crowded pavement - even with the unsettled weather of April, the city is still busy with tourists.

“I told you, love, I can’t navigate reliably with just the pieces of my wand.”

Kylo releases Armitage’s hand and slings his arm around his shoulder to pull him into the shelter of Kylo’s body as a particularly strong gust of wind buffets them. Armitage glances at the odd smudge of cloud huddled to the east - that cloud formation had been there for hours now with no signs of clearing. They cross the road and pass under the stone archway that connects the ancient Christ Church Cathedral with a more lurid tourist attraction on the opposite corner of the street. Both buildings have healthy-sized crowds milling about them.

“Did you try using the broken wand?” Kylo asks as Armitage leads them down a narrow cobblestone path alongside the cathedral.

“I did,” Armitage replied absently. He glances away from his scrutiny of the cathedral wall to smile ruefully up at Kylo. “I was looking for you when I ended up in Alba instead of Galway.”

Kylo shudders, pulling them to a stop. “Alba, ugh.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” Armitage grins, taking Kylo’s hands in his and swinging them gently. “The _Sidhe_ pointed me in the right direction-” A shrill chirrup from Fintan causes Armitage to wince, “-alright, fine. They were ready to call the Fianna down upon me for trespassing on their territory, but we came to an understanding.”

“And what was that?” Kylo laughs.

“That I never come to Alba uninvited again.”

Kylo presses a kiss to Armitage’s forehead. “No problem there, who wants to go to Alba anyway?”

“Right?”

They giggle for a moment before Armitage leads Kylo forward again, resuming his survey of the gray stone walls of the ancient cathedral. They pass by a wooden door decorated with graffiti before Armitage signals for a stop in front of another wooden set of doors, guarded by a tall iron gate.

“This is it.”

Armitage swings the gate open and motions for Kylo to follow him up the steps to the elaborately styled door. Kylo glances behind him towards the small park on the other side of the pathway but none of the locals hanging out in the green space pay them any mind, so he follows Armitage up the steps, swinging the gate closed behind them. A door knocker in the shape of a ram’s head, with its curling horns spiralling down from its forehead to form the handle, sits high up on the dark wood of the door. Armitage grasps the handle and raps on the door three times. The ram yawns hugely, shaking its head and blinking down at them myopically.

“Who goes there?” Its voice is raspy with disuse.

“Finnegan,” Armitage sighs. “You know very well it is us - who else would it be?”

“Well I have to ask, don’t I?” The ram answers peevishly. “Could be anyone trying to get through here, what kind of guardian would I be then?

“Fine, fine.” Armitage rolls his shoulders back to stand at his full height as Kylo chuckles under his breath. “It is I, Armitage, son of The Dagda, son of Boann, along with my consort, Kylo, the Storm god and foster son of Manannán mac Lir.”

“Of course you are!” Finnegan is jovial now that his gatekeeping duties are fulfilled. “It’s been an age since I’ve seen you both. Where do you need to go today?”

“Brú na Bóinne, I think?” Kylo says, looking to Armitage for confirmation, who nods. “Can you make that happen?”

“Easily done.” The ram says with the slightest nod of his head.

From within the door, the grinding sound of metal comes, indicating that the heavy locks are pulling back. With a final clanking rumble, the door creaks open slightly and Armitage can see the barest sliver of green through the murky gloom within.

“Oh, your payment, Finnegan.” Armitage pulls open his mantle and extracts a golden coin from one of his many concealed pockets. He slips it into the ram’s mouth, who nods in thanks.

Kylo pushes the door open wider, allowing Armitage to pass through first, he then follows, pulling the door shut firmly behind them. The rumble of the locking mechanism comes again as Finnegan engages the locks.

Armitage blinks rapidly in the darkness as he follows the hint of green beckoning him from beyond the doorway of the passage mound. He takes two long strides up the short incline before cautiously peering out of the doorway at the surrounding fields. To his right, the narrow country lane is jammed with tourist buses delivering eager crowds excited to see his home, the earthen mound known as the Palace on the Bóinne. Glancing left towards his own Sidhe mound, the white stone and green grass earthen structure is surrounded by tourists taking photographs and listening intently to the tour guide who will eventually take them into the dark and dusty passageway. Armitage frowns at the ring of standing stones in front of the mound - they had been a later addition by well-meaning people but they still annoyed him after all this time. His palace is already impressive enough, it hardly needed dressing up to look imposing.

Kylo pokes his head out of the passageway, peering around Armitage's shoulder. His clever eyes take in the vast swarms of tourists.

“Will they see us?”

“I should think not,” Armitage whispers. “The glamour that protects me extends to you as well.”

They step out of the smaller passage mound and stand hand in hand gazing up at the impressive monument before them. Kylo sighs as he squeezes Armitage’s hand.

“I know it seems like a desecration, babe, but just think, all these people have come to see your house.”

“Oh, they do not even know whose house they visit,” Armitage says sourly as they cross the field towards the earth mound.

“I think some know, you’d be surprised, I think.”

Fintan whistles softly then, distracting Armitage. He nods.

“Fly, my friends, go on.”

The birds launch themselves joyously from Armitage’s antlers, catching an updraft they sail high in the sky and out over the fallow fields.

“Where should we begin looking for this wand?” Kylo asks as they make their way up the low incline, skirting their path around the biggest swarms of tourists.

Armitage smiles as he watches the songbirds dive and swoop across the field, the four of them fly in formation diving towards the ground then turning upon a knife’s edge to wing their way towards he and Kylo, then dodging around them at the last minute only to catch an updraft so that they can coast in lazy circles high above. He gets so wrapped up with everything, with Kylo, with his classes, maintaining his magic, that he forgets the simple joy of being out in the world, walking across the fields with his beloved. He turns his face away from the sky and smiles at Kylo.

“Well, as you know, this valley is sacred to our people, everything is so laden with magic and significance that even ordinary Gaels can sense it. We should be able to find the right tree anywhere here but,” Armitage indicates with a tilt of his head, “let us look along the river banks, I feel called to that direction.”

Together, they meander across the gently rolling fields, hopping over hedgerows, while the songbirds coast above them on an updraft. Perched high on the hill to their right, they pass another _Sidhe mound_ \- Knowth. The ancient passage mound broods upon the hilltop like a watchful hen and Armitage shivers slightly as they pass. Knowth has been long abandoned, even in the centuries past, and whichever of the gods called it home, no longer did by the time Armitage was born.

As if sensing his discomfort, Kylo’s arm snakes out to curl around Armitage’s waist. He squawks as he feels Kylo’s body dipping into a tell-tale crouch.

“Don’t you dare!” He shrieks as Kylo hoists him up and over his shoulder.

“You’re taking too long,” Kylo laughs as Armitage raps him smartly on his backside. “Aren’t you anxious to find this wand and test it out?”

Armitage harrumphs and crosses his arms, letting himself dangle limply from Kylo’s shoulder as Kylo, giggling, carries him the last few steps to the trees that bracket the rushing river.

Kylo carefully sets him down with a kiss then steps away to inspect the copse of trees growing along the river. Beyond the stretch of trees, the river Boyne is a deep, vibrant blue and running fast. The river and indeed the entire valley is sacred to Armitage’s mother, Boann, and is named for her - which makes sense, the landscape possesses the same serene beauty that his mother has. The rustle of branches draws his attention away from his inward-looking thoughts and back to the matter at hand. Kylo has carefully pulled back the foliage, clearing a narrow path into the copse of trees that run the length of the river for a distance. Above him, perched on one of the trees, are Fintan, Fionnbarr, Farrell, and Phineas, their bright black eyes watching Kylo work with interest. Kylo peers into the trees at the tangle of undergrowth, looking doubtful.

“It’s pretty muddy and tangled in there,” Kylo glances down at Armitage’s impractical boots as a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Make sure you’re careful.”

When Armitage had finally come to settle in Dublin and take up his post at the college, he shed his typical courtier clothing of embroidered tunics and waistcoats, tall waterproof boots, and his big sweeping mantle in favour of playing the dotty university professor and that meant wearing less practical things like button-down shirts, fuzzy jumpers, braces, and beautiful wingtip boots that served no practical function. Kylo, newly arrived in Dublin, has been slower to dress the part and even a year on from his arrival, he still has the air of a practical, ready-for-anything soldier about him and it’s reflected in his sturdy boots and heavy wool coats.

Armitage glances down at his fine boots and smiles ruefully. “I will try to be careful, love, if you wish it.”

“I do wish it.” Kylo waves Armitage forward and together they duck into the tangle of trees.

They follow a narrow, meandering deer path through the trees, the river rushing frantically alongside. Between the branches and slowly unfurling new leaves on the trees, Armitage catches glimpses of Fintan and the others as they keep pace in the canopy above. Kylo strides ahead a few paces along the path, meticulously examining every tree, every shrub for a sign.

“How will we know when we find the right tree?” He calls back to Armitage.

“I think the tree will find us.”

Kylo hums to himself as he continues up the path, he follows the foot track around the bend of the river and around a large clump of shrubbery that momentarily hides him from Armitage’s sight. Armitage stops to examine a rowan tree which, oddly enough, is already in full bloom; the small tree’s leaves are full and green, and the bunches of flowers are a vivid white against the darker foliage. Strange, Armitage thinks as he rubs a spray of leaves between his fingertips, that this particular tree should be so far ahead of the others. He continues his way along the path, not wanting Kylo to get too far ahead when he’s suddenly jerked back to a halt. He tries to move again but something is holding him in place. He shakes his head slightly.

Oh no.

“Kylo?” He calls out, hoping he will hear over the rush of the river.

“Hmm?”

“Can you come back here?” Armitage grits his teeth. “I need your help with something.”

Moments later, Kylo returns, crashing through the brush. He pulls up short when he sees Armitage. A huge grin blooms across Kylo’s face.

“If you laugh, it’s over for you,” Armitage warns darkly as Kylo hurries over, his smile growing broader by the second, his mismatched eyes glittering with barely restrained laughter.

“I wouldn’t dream of laughing.” Kylo’s smile is so wide now that it nearly splits his face in two.

Kylo strokes his fingertips up and over Armitage’s cheeks and then down to cup his face tenderly. He just holds Armitage’s face gently then, like he was made of spun glass, gazing down at him with a mix of adoration and mirth.

Armitage snorts and tries to glower at Kylo but he can’t help the barest hint of an answering smile from tugging at his lips. Kylo was always beautiful but doubly so when he smiles - the fine lines that crease around his eyes when he smiles are truly lovely and his broad grin shows off his crooked teeth, which Armitage finds utterly adorable. When Armitage can no longer endure the look of complete and total devotion and love on Kylo’s face, he narrows his eyes.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” Kylo grins gleefully. “Are you stuck, babe?”

“You know perfectly well that I am.”

“Oh my,” Kylo says. “Whatever will we do?”

He leans down to press his lips to Armitage's, sliding one hand from Armitage’s cheek around to rest on the nape of his neck, his fingers brushing through Armitage’s hair. Armitage sighs as he sways closer to Kylo, the branches tangled in his antlers hampering his movements slightly so he grips Kylo by the elbows to pull him closer. Kylo slides both hands into Armitage’s hair, the pads of his thumbs brushing carefully over the coronets on Armitage’s head, causing him to shiver slightly.

Armitage presses forward eagerly only to be pulled back by the tree branches. He pulls back from Kylo’s lips with a gasp.

“Set me free, love, will you?”

Kylo presses another lush kiss to his mouth before turning his attention to the tangle of branches and flowers atop Armitage’s head. He frowns.

“You’re really tangled up. How did this happen?”

Armitage just shrugs as Kylo works. Flowers and bits of leaf shower down upon his cheeks and shoulders as Kylo pulls at the branches and carefully untwists them from his antlers. After a few minutes of work, he steps back.

“Okay, I think I have you mostly out. Can you try to move your head?”

Armitage lowers his head slightly and gives an experimental tug, then pulls with more force. He stumbles as the tree releases him, clumps of flowers and leaves tumble down around him. His head canted to the side gently as a large branch of the rowan tree is still impaled on his antlers; Kylo catches him by the elbow to steady him, then he unthreads the branch from the points of Armitage’s antlers.

The branch is sturdy, long and straight, with no cracks, rot, or any other type of damage. Kylo hands it to Armitage so that he can brush the flower and leaf debris from Armitage’s hair and clothes. Armitage’s fingertips tingle and glow softly when he takes the branch from Kylo. He smiles.

“Kylo,” He looks back over his shoulder where Kylo is meticulously brushing the flower petals from Armitage’s backside. “My love, I think this is it.”

Kylo straightens up so he can hook his chin over Armitage’s shoulder and look down at the future wand in Armitage’s hands.

“You were right, babe, the tree did choose you.” He slipped his arms around Armitage’s waist. “How does it become a wand now?”

Armitage whistles to the songbirds perched in the trees overhead and they swoop down to land on his antlers. He takes Kylo’s hand to lead him out of the thicket of trees and back to the fields surrounding the _Sidhe_ mounds.

“I am not quite sure,” He said after a moment of reflection. “The last wand was given to me by my father, and I think one of the smith gods had a hand in making it, but now I’m not sure - maybe I can find a craftsperson to help?”

Kylo takes the rowan branch from Armitage and slings it over his shoulder as they begin the gentle ascent to the main earthen mound, still surrounded by tourists. He lifts their joined hands to his mouth to press a kiss to the back of Armitage’s hand.

“Would you leave it with me for a while? I might be able to help.”

“Of course, love,” Armitage nods. “Now, shall we head back to Dublin?”

Kylo smiles as he leads them around to the entrance to the mound where the largest group of curious sightseers is gathered.

“Not yet, let’s hear what these Gaels have to say about your house.”

They settle in unobtrusively at the back of the tour group, unseen by everyone. Armitage burrows into Kylo’s side, all but purring when Kylo’s arm comes up around his shoulder to gather him in. Together they listen to the guide speak about the archaeology of the earthen mound; they giggle and give each other meaningful look when the information is wrong, eyebrows raising when the guide gets it right. Armitage watches the excited group of people line up to enter the mound; of course, they would get no further than the end of the passage, which functioned like a gatehouse, but Kylo was right - it was oddly gratifying to see so many people anxious to peer inside, even if they had no idea whose house they were entering.

Kylo presses a kiss to his temple and holds him close for a moment, then catches Armitage’s eye and nods in the direction of the smaller _Sidhe_ mound that forms their pathway back to Dublin. Armitage untangles himself from Kylo’s side and together they slip away from Brú na Bóinne leaving it to its hoards of admirers, and with the songbirds and newly acquired wand in tow, they make their way back to Dublin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage hands over the raw materials for his wand to Kylo for safe-keeping and not a moment sooner, he thinks. Something unseen is creeping just out of view and no one but Armitage seems to sense it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now featuring art by my lovely friend @sailortechie - thank you!!

There are plenty of niceties and little conveniences that Armitage enjoys about life outside Tír na nÓg. He very much appreciates his university-issued computer even if he’s unskilled with it. On more than one occasion, he’s had to have Rey, or one of his other students, help him to navigate it. He knows this makes him look like a funny, frazzled teacher but he can’t exactly explain to his students that it’s hard to teach an old god new tricks. But, the vast amounts of information available instantly makes their gentle teasing worth it.

He also likes having a ready supply of oolong tea as well, another convenience that he cannot do without now. Oolong is still the best for his readings.

Ice cream. Chai lattes. Foods from all over the world - these are also fine things that Armitage enjoys about life in Dublin.

What Armitage does miss, however, is the easy companionship of the court of the Tuatha Dé Danann. He misses having the numerous skills and talents of the other members of the court at his beck and call. Without the skills of the Trí Dé Dána, the three gods of craftsmanship, how does one go about building a new wand? He can’t very well look up “wandmakers” on the computer, he doubts he would find what he’s looking for. In a world that no longer believes in the old gods, are there still those who are skilled wrights, artificers, and smiths? Who forges the weapons? Who works with bronze, brass, and glass nowadays?

Armitage had been ready to swallow his pride and temporarily end his personal exile in order to return home to seek the services of Luchtaine, the woodworker when Kylo confidently assured him that they didn’t need Luchtaine’s help. _You remember, babe_, Kylo had breezily announced, _the reason why I was able to join Nuada’s court?_ Armitage remembered well a time when Kylo was not as dear to him as he is now when he was just an upstart interloper. But, he is as skilled in all the arts of the Tuatha Dé Danann as he professed, and when he looks at Armitage with his enormous gold and brown fathomless eyes, eager to help and full of nothing but devotion, Armitage is powerless to resist. He eventually relinquished the raw materials of the wand to Kylo’s care, trusting him to know what he was doing.

But that had been weeks ago now and although Armitage didn’t want to seem pushy, he’s starting to feel a sort of itchy awareness in his palms and fingertips, his magic knows that his most powerful accoutrement is nearby and the magic is longing for it. He scrubs his palms against this thighs as he walks - perhaps he would gently ask Kylo tonight when they were both home from their various daily tasks. There had been more rumblings of thunder lately. As a storm god, the thunder and occasional lightning tend to follow wherever Kylo goes. Maybe, just maybe, he’s nearly finished creating the wand.

Armitage walks along the river today, wanting a change of scenery on his way to campus, but also to keep an eye on the unusual cloud bank that has parked itself to the east for weeks now. He uneasily surveys the grey-green thunderheads bruising the horizon. This weather pattern isn’t like the one that occurs when Kylo is travelling, those clouds to the east are something else. Although Fintan and the others had volunteered to fly over and report back, Armitage doesn’t want to send them into danger. He’s been keeping a close eye on his tea leaves, and over his scrying bowl, but so far nothing seems amiss. As a last resort, he’s fallen back on checking the many newspapers printed in the city, but none of them have made a special note of the cloud bank.

He resolves to simply keep monitoring the peculiar weather and act, if and when, it becomes necessary. A brisk breeze picks up, ruffling the hair sweeping over his forehead. Fintan, Fionnbarr, Farrell, and Phineas dive from the deep blue of the sky to shelter on his antlers. Armitage pulls his green cardigan firmly around himself as he hurries on towards school, hoping that his umbrella is in his office and not back at the flat.

\----

Fortune smiles on Armitage, whatever storm Kylo is cooking up generously waits for him to arrive at his office before the sky truly opens up. The lights overhead flicker as a fork of lightning snakes across the sky, while a burst of rain hammers the ground. Armitage pushes open one of the tall windows behind his desk as the rain cuts off as suddenly as it began, and the sharp smell of petrichor swirls into the office. Thunder continues to rumble distantly but Armitage senses that the storm has passed for now.

With a few minutes to spare, Armitage heads down the hall to his classroom; Fintan and the others glide ahead and sweep into the room ahead of him, perching in their usual spot on the curtain rod above the windows. Armitage nods a greeting to the already assembled students; his summer classes are always an interesting mix of people, some of his regular students take the summer session but there is also a handful of exchange students and some people who attend part-time, simply interested in learning about the early Irish language. He does a quick headcount and notices that two of his more dedicated students are missing.

Armitage checks the hallway for the stragglers, leaning up against the propped-open door as the hallway clears of people as classes commence. From down the hall, rapid steps approach. Shoes squishing and sliding on the floor from the unexpected storm, his two missing students hurry down the hall, their sodden jackets flying behind them.

“Jenny! Emma!” Armitage waves them forward. “You had time to stop for iced coffees but not to arrive on time?”

“We’re sorry, Professor!” Jenny wails as they approach. “We didn’t expect the rain but here-” She hands him a large plastic cup of frothy caramel-coloured tea mixed with ice from the tray in her hands “-we got you an iced chai.”

Armitage accepts the drink with a nod of thanks. “Alright, but please do not tell anyone how easily I can be bought.”

He sips the sweet drink as Emma laughs. The two girls slip past him and into the room to find their seats. With the hallway empty, Armitage kicks the door closed to begin the lesson.

\----

Armitage’s eager steps take him up the stairs two at a time.

“_Oscailte_.” He murmurs, waving his gently glowing hand at the door at the top of the stairs.

The weathered green door opens with a soft click and Fintan, Fionnbarr, Farrell, and Phineas take flight from Armitage’s antlers and dart inside the flat. Armitage follows them a moment later, closing the door behind him his eyes automatically searching for Kylo.l

“_Fáilte abhaile_, my beauty.”

Kylo’s deep voice comes from behind him and Armitage turns to see Kylo leaving the small bathroom at the other end of the kitchen, his hair damp and curling around his ears. Armitage smiles as Kylo glides across the kitchen towards him, he tips his face up so that Kylo can bestow his welcome home kisses. Once Armitage has been thoroughly kissed, he reaches up to stroke his hands through Kylo’s damp hair.

“Caught out in the storm of your own making, love?” He runs his fingertips over the shell of Kylo’s ears, sighing softly as Kylo leans into the caress.

“In a way.” Kylo takes Armitage’s bag from his shoulder and slings it over his own then leads him into the parlour.

The songbirds trill their greetings to Kylo from their perch on the standing lamp behind Armitage's chair. Kylo guides Armitage towards his chair, gently encouraging him to sit, Kylo takes Armitage’s bag over to his scuffed escritoire and places it on the chair. He then carefully gathers something wrapped in a cloth from the tabletop and presents it to Armitage.

“A present for you.” He says with a grin as he takes his own seat opposite Armitage.

Armitage’s stomach flip-flops with excitement as his fingers buzz with his magic when he unwraps the beautiful new wand Kylo has made for him. The polished gray-black wood gleams in the light of the setting sun pouring through the window. As he holds it in his hands, Armitage feels a jolt of energy course up from his hands and settle in his chest, he gasps.

“This is beautiful, love, thank you.” Armitage scrutinizes the wand, carefully turning it over in his hands. “Truly a work of art.” He squints at the tiny script on the handle. “_Moralltach_?” He glances up at Kylo.

“That’s its name.”

“Oh! You named it, that is very thoughtful.”

Kylo laughs, slapping his knee. “Nope, it named itself. Do you really like it?”

“I do, my love, it’s the finest thing I’ve ever been given.” Armitage leans forward to slide his hand around to the nape of Kylo’s neck and guide him down for a kiss. “Thank you.”

Kylo’s pleased smile lights up the parlour so much so that Armitage is powerless to do anything other than press another kiss to his lush lips.

After bestowing several more loving kisses and caresses, Armitage finally untangles them and reaches over to pull the drapes closed, blocking out the summer sun. Kylo pulls the other panel closed then reached behind him to flick on the lamp. The room is bathed in soothing golden light. Armitage takes a breath as he balances the wand on his upturned palms. He glances up at Kylo, who nods encouragingly, then he closes his eyes to centre himself. He opens his eyes, focussing on his newly made wand, he begins to chant.

“I, Armitage, the god of fire, of youth, of poetry. I, the judge of the dead. I, the Mac Óg, the Honeymouth. I, of many names in the past, in the present, and in the future, ask with great respect that you, _Moralltach_, do my bidding until such time as we are parted.”

He pauses as the air around them vibrates with a droning buzz as the wand deliberates. Finally, a bright flash of light spills out of the wand, so bright, in fact, that it illuminates the room as if it was midday. The runes Kylo had carved into the handle gleam like molten gold. One by one, the runes flicker out, leaving spots dancing before Armitage’s eyes. Exhaling hard, he slumps back into his chair, grinning at Kylo’s uncertain expression.

“That’s it, love, _Moralltach_ has agreed to be my assistant in all things.”

The tightness in Kylo’s shoulders releases as he leans forward, balancing his elbows on his knees.

“That’s great, babe, not that I ever doubted you.” He squeezes Armitage's knee. “Do you need to take it for a spin?”

“Yes, I think I shall.” Armitage gets up and heads towards the bedroom. “There’s been something I’ve wanted to try in the bedroom.”

“Ooh, the bedroom, eh.” Kylo leaps to his feet to follow. Armitage glances back over his shoulder, fluttering his eyelashes.

“Not quite like that, love, not right this minute anyway.”

Kylo laughs as he follows Armitage into the bedroom. The songbirds, interested in Armitage’s spellwork, perch on the open stained glass transom window above the bedroom door, their beady black eyes fixed on Armitage.

Armitage comes to a stop in the centre of the room. Inhaling deeply, he lets his breath out in a slow, even exhale, his eyes nervously flicking to Kylo’s face and then away. He points the wand towards the ceiling, the magic gathering in his hands as the wand senses his intention.

“Reveal to me the evening sky, beneath the stars we wish to lie. Reveal to me the morning dawn, let us hear the carillon. Bells swell, birds fly, beneath the sky of stars we wish to lie.”

A pulse of golden light burst from the wand, hitting the ceiling it begins to spread until it covers the entire area. Armitage and Kylo watch eagerly as the golden light fades to reveal the evening sunset, the sky shot through with reds, oranges, and pinks.

“Is the roof gone?” Kylo asks in wonder, tearing his gaze away from the ceiling to look at Armitage with wide eyes.

“No, I simply made it translucent. Watch.”

With a flick of his wand, Armitage sends another bead of golden light towards the ceiling. As it strikes an invisible barrier, the golden bead crackles out across the ceiling like lightning.

“Incredible, babe.” Kylo takes two quick steps around Armitage to retrieve something from the bedside table. He holds it out to Armitage. “Here, I also repaired your old vambrace, I oiled the leather and stitched up the torn seams.”

He returns to Armitage’s side, taking his left arm gently in his hands. Tucking the leather vambrace under his arm, he unbuttons the cuff of Armitage’s checked shirt, eyes never leaving Armitage’s face as he gently rolls the sleeve up, laying Armitage’s forearm bare. Strapping on the well-worn vambrace, he slips two fingers beneath the buckles to make sure the fit isn’t too tight.

Slightly breathless from the attention, Armitage slides the wand in place, flexing and twisting his arm to ensure there’s no hindering his range of movement. With a wave of his hand, the bedroom door swings shut and the birds, sensing Kylo and Armitage wish to be alone, flutter off to the parlour, chittering to each other as they go. As Armitage begins to unbutton the rest of his shirt, he lets it slide off his narrow shoulders and on to the floor. Kylo gathers him in, pressing kisses to his smiling mouth as he guides them towards the bed.

Armitage sighs with a combination of pleasure and relief - he finally feels whole again, he has Kylo back by his side, his wand has been restored to him, what could possibly go amiss now?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage's uneasy feelings continue to grow and when he and Rey both begin to experience strange dreams and visions, he starts to worry they may not be prepared for what's coming. When is a dream just a dream, and when does it herald something more?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone has any questions about the mythology of the story, please do let me know in the comments! Irish mythology is a strange beast because it doesn't have a tidy hierarchy of gods and creation myths like Greek or Norse mythology. For the purposes of this au, I have based Armitage on the god Aengus, and Kylo on the god Lugh. Aengus was the illegitimate son of The Dagda, and The Dagda is sort of like Zeus in that he's a father-figure and leader of the gods. He was the king of the Tuatha De Danann for many years. So if you're wondering why he pops up so often in this story, it's because of his leadership role within the pantheon of Irish gods.

He’s being followed, and for some time now. He’s almost sure of it.

His new wand. The odd weather, and now this. It all has to be connected, Armitage thinks.

Events are at play, he can feel it. Like a speck of dust in his eye or movement in his peripheral vision, he can very nearly see it. The players are moving into position, even now, they’re just out of the corner of his eye, however, if only he could turn his head, just a bit, and he would see the truth.

Somewhere between the flat and the university, he hears it. A peculiar scrabble of claws on limestone sending a shiver of alarm down his spine, but when he turns quickly, the street behind him is empty. The sun filters down through the now ever-present clouds, making the shadows in the alley leap at him. What trees there are in this section of the street, are mostly small and don’t provide much in the way of cover; they sway blandly in the wind, offering him nothing to work with, they act like nothing is amiss. He could compel them to talk, but that will take more time than he has at present.

He surreptitiously glances about, trying to find the source of the unease but everything is as it should be. With a sigh and a nod to the young ash trees, he continues on his way. The suspicious footsteps do not resume but he can’t shake the feeling of being watched, the unseen gaze is boring into his back between his shoulder blades, making him hunch his shoulders uncomfortably. The feeling follows him as he makes his way towards campus, like an itch he can’t scratch, he cannot rid himself of it.

The unease that has settled over Armitage like a cloak has also infected Fintan, Fionnbarr, Farrell, and Phineas. They keep a close watch for him but whenever they whistle with suspicion, by the time Armitage turns, the interloper is gone. Closer to campus, the foot and street traffic increases and it becomes harder for them to listen for odd sounds, unusual characters, or too-close footfalls. It’s only when he’s finally passed through the gates of the university and on the grounds proper does the itchy feeling vanish as suddenly as it began. Whatever, or whomever, had been following had lost interest or is merely biding its time until they meet again later. 

Armitage isn’t sure which he prefers.

As he walks quickly and purposefully across campus, what worries him the most is that the unseen visitor had been able to skirt around his glamour. Working correctly, most eyes should slide right over him, a momentary fancy then he’s gone again. He should be able to pass unseen wherever he wishes and in all these many centuries, his glamour has rarely failed him. Rey was able to see through it, but she is a puzzle he’s still working out. 

The gaze hadn’t been malicious, he muses as he unlocks his office door, just… intent. Purposeful. He closes the door and locks it again then puts his satchel down on his desk. It wasn’t good or vicious yet, which way things would fall remains to be seen. He sits in his desk chair, leaning back he steeples his hands beneath his chin, the birds perch on the windowsill, still keyed up from earlier and keeping watch. Dublin isn’t just home to himself and Kylo, plenty of other creatures live here, although they rarely show themselves.

The puka, kelpies, lesser fae, or leprechauns have nothing to fear from himself or Kylo, and even if they’re too uncertain to speak to the gods directly, there’s always Fintan or any of the other songbirds for they are Armitage’s worthy acolytes as well as friends.

Taking one of his notebooks from his desk drawer, Armitage begins to make notes about the strange happenings of the morning. For a moment, nothing but the soft susurrations of the pen moving over the paper disturbs the quiet of the room, even the songbirds on the window sill are quiet - their wings rustling, tails wagging as they softly chirrup to each other.

His office smells faintly of old books and ink, mixed with oolong and the electric frizzle of the table lamp and computer. The tiny office tucked away in a corner of the Irish History department had long been a comforting and safe space for Armitage. The room and the campus took him in and protected him from the bustle of the modern world that he hadn’t been prepared to be a part of during the long years of Kylo’s absence. That’s all changed now with Kylo’s return but the office will always be a special sanctuary for him.

Finishing his notes, Armitage idly flipped through the pages of the last few weeks; the blue bruise of the thunderheads continued to churn towards the east, never moving, never dissipating, but lately some of the cloud banks had broken off and drifted towards Dublin so that the city was socked in with leaden gray skies that Armitage found unusual for this time of year. But in more recent days, the descriptions of the weird weather have been joined by the pricking of eyes following him. Even Kylo, ever the watchful soldier, had noted that he too had felt the unseen gaze upon his back - it made the scar bisecting his beautiful face tingle and pull.

Now _that_ had captured Armitage's attention. Surely old war wounds shouldn’t react like that? The very idea of it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand upright, even now.

Armitage set his pen down and closed the book over top of it, he would take it home this afternoon to show Kylo. Getting lightly to his feet, Armitage went to one of the bookshelves that line the walls of his narrow office, Fintan and Farrell flutter over to perch on his antlers to assist him as Fionnbarr and Phineas continue their watch at the windows.

He drags his fingers along the spines of his well-loved, ancient collection of books. He had a very inaccurate translation of the _Leabor Gabála Érenn_ from 1075 AD as well as a much better, more complete version from 1795 - that one he carefully pulled from the shelf and set on the corner of his desk, and for good measure, he took a decent modern English translation as well. These Gaels nowadays were always captivated by the so-called Book of Invasions, as it was known in modern English, the title is fanciful he admits, but maybe the old stories would yield up some as of yet unknown secrets.

From the towering shelves of books, he carefully made a selection to study in the evenings, from _Magical Maladies and Known Cures_ to the _Short Text of St. Julian’s Revelations_, _Psychopomps and What to Do About Them_ along with other books of dream interpretation and divination, including one about the Ogham sticks which he knew Rey would be interested in.

Fintan trills as he hops off Armitage’s antlers to briefly perch on the spine of another book, a fairly standard guide to Irish folklore. He smiles.

“You’re absolutely right, Fintan, we have no idea what is going on as yet, might as well start at the beginning.”

He gathers up the small stack books, precious and sacred alike, and brings them around to his chair whereupon the desk, his satchel sits empty. With a delicate glance over his shoulder to be sure no one is spying from the windows opposite his on the courtyard, Armitage slides his wand out from its concealed vambrace. He taps the satchel. “Bigger on the inside.” He whispers as the bag yawns open to accommodate all of his bulky books.

Returning the wand to its vambrace, he fusses with the cuff of his shirt to make sure no trace of the wand is showing, then he places the satchel on the ground with a satisfied smile. That silly space show Rey had insisted he watch with her last year came in handy after all.

A few footsteps sound in the hallway, indicating that classes are switching over which means that Rey should be here momentarily. Armitage slips the old brass pocket watch from its home in the tiny pocket of his checked waistcoat - his newest acolyte almost always arrives exactly on time, meaning, she should be here any moment.

With a flick of his fingers and a murmured whisper of “_Oscailte_”, the door to his office clicks open slowly, waiting in an invitation for Rey.

He doesn’t have to wait long before he hears her swift and sure footsteps skimming down the hall towards his open door. She blows into the office like a storm herself and with wild hair and equally wild eyes she slams the door, which startles both Armitage and the birds and they wheel around the ceiling before landing on his antlers. She rushes to Armitage’s desk, throwing herself dramatically in the chair, she gaps at Armitage with open mouth.

“You will never believe the dream I had!”

Every fibre of Armitage’s body suddenly begins to vibrate at a higher frequency - now finally, maybe some of the pieces of this strange and puzzling mystery will begin to make sense. He puts his laptop to the side of his desk then whips open his notebook, the pages slapping on the blotter of the desk in his haste. Flipping to the page where he’d left off earlier, he peers across the desk at her with eager eyes.

“Tell me, leave out no detail, however small or inconsequential you think it might be.”

“Well,” She begins. Fionnbarr interrupts her with a whistle. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She reaches into her knapsack and places a container of chopped up watermelon on the table for the birds. “I thought this would be refreshing since it’s summer, even if the warm weather hasn’t shown up yet.”

She puts the container of fruit to the other side of the table so that the birds are slightly out of the way. She smiles at them as they chirrup their thanks one by one before dipping their heads to peck at the watery, pink fruit. She looks back at Armitage.

“Are you okay?” She shuffles her chair closer, folding her elbows on the desk.

“I am quite well, why?”

“It’s just that,” She pauses, looking at him with her head cocked to the side. “Your eyes are very green right now. It’s really intense when you look at me.”

Armitage blinks rapidly and takes a deep inhale, willing his racing heart to calm itself. The birds, having finished the watermelon, flutter back to resume their watch at the window and the room falls silent once again. The ticking of his pocket watch reverberates loudly in the tall, narrow space, rattling around Armitage’s head. He shakes his head, trying to clear it. Rey simply waits, eyes concerned.

“Rey,” He begins, voice pitched low and serious. “Things are afoot in the city and I know not all the players at the moment. Please tell me about this dream, it could be very important.”

Rey reaches across the table to cover his pale hand with her own. She squeezes it firmly before crossing her arms once again.

“After that, it’s going to be a bit of a letdown. Sorry.” She bites her lip.

“It is alright, we shall work it out together.”

She launches into the recounting of her dream, and much to Armitage’s disappointment, she’s correct, there isn’t much to go on. A shadowy rabble of unknown figures. The seashore. A tower. And the Hill of Tara.

“You know, of course, the significance of Cnoc na Teamhrach?”

“Yeah, I’ve been there for a school day trip.” Rey frowns as she reflects on the dream. “But what … is it in danger?”

Armitage simply lifts one shoulder in an elegant shrug as he continues to write. The Hill is still a sacred place, even if the time of the High Kings has come and gone. His father lives there in _Dumha na nGiall_ which the Christian scribes had renamed as the Mound of the Hostages. But if an army, or even a rabble as Rey described them, were to march down the ceremonial avenue and take the stone of destiny that crowns his father’s home, they could wrench open the gates and pull out The Dagda, kill him and ransack him home. Even one of his magical devices, in the wrong hands, would be catastrophic. Armitage shudders to think what the magical staff, _Lorg mór_, would be capable of in hands less worthy than his father’s. Armitage places his pen down beside his notebook, it suddenly feels very heavy in his hand. He rubs absently at his forehead, his shoulders slumping and he leans back in his chair - his normally impeccable posture crumbling into a heap. Rey squeezes his hand again, attempting to regain his attention.

“Hey, it was just a dream,” she said hesitantly. “Wasn’t it? You know better than I do that dreams are weird.”

Armitage smiles weakly at her as he drags his arms back onto the desk. He crosses them and leans heavily on his elbows as if he’s carrying the weight of the world on his antlers. He just wants a peaceful retirement in Dublin with his beloved, his friends, and his teaching job. He sighs.

“You are right, of course.” He smiles at her and she beamed at him in relief. “Tea?”

She nods so he gets up to reach for the kettle on a rickety side table. He peeks inside to see that it is full of fresh water, then he places his hand against the belly of the pot. He leans back against the bookshelf, hand still on the kettle and it begins to burble cheerily. 

“Oolong?”

“Do you have peppermint and licorice? She smiles, fascinated by the magic on display. “I think it’ll be better for both of us.”

He nods as the kettle finishes bubbling. Licorice and peppermint is the exact right tea for the situation.

“So,” Rey continues, as he returns to the desk with two cups of tea nestled in their matching dainty saucers. “Is there something else we can do to interpret my dream? Pendulums, or something. Do you have tarot cards?”

Armitage makes a moue of distaste. “I’m not a witch, you know.”

A sly grin creeps across Rey’s face as she slowly looks from the still bubbling kettle to the songbirds by the window, and finally at Armitage and his antlers. She arches an eyebrow at him.

“Could have fooled me.” She crosses her arms, pleased, in front of her chest and leans back in her chair.

Armitage can’t help but laugh at her obvious attempt to lighten the mood. “You should have taken more of my classes, you could have translated more of the old texts. My skills have nothing to do with witchcraft.”

“Who says I haven’t been reading them.” She leans in as if for the kill. “I know all about Étaín.”

Armitage gasps. “It was not like that, the blasted monks did not put it down correctly.”

“Oh, Armitage, wooing someone else?” She shakes her head in mock disbelief. “How could you? What about poor Kylo.”

Armitage scowls as he leans back in his chair and sips his tea darkly. “That lazy Midir, he couldn’t even do his own courting. Did you know he already had a wife?” Rey nods, still smiling. “He didn’t even thank me after. He just disappeared with her without so much as a ‘by your leave’.”

Rey giggles. “Just terrible, awful manners. And after all that, what did it get him?”

“The gods know, he’s probably still chasing after her - his first wife turned her into a fly.”

Rey laughs harder as Armitage continues to grumble into his tea about his thankless cousins. With the dark mood lifted, they chat for a few minutes about Rey’s classes and her goals for the upcoming school year. Finally, Armitage finishes all but the last of his tea. He pours it out into the saucer and whistles for the songbirds. They flit back to his desk to take their refreshment.

“Alright,” Armitage says as he leans down to open the bottom drawer of his desk. He takes out a glass jug filled with water and heaves it up onto the desk. “Why don’t you try to scry and see if you can determine the meaning of the dream. I fetched the water this morning just in case you wanted to try again.”

Rey had been having medium success with her scrying but Armitage suspects she’s only hit a plateau - once she truly lets go, the unseen world will open up for her.

She nods, a determined frown scrunching up her forehead and mouth. Gathering up the teacups, she takes them over to the side table with the kettle and returns with one of the candles from the vast array on the bookshelf. Armitage has set out his black and gold-rimmed bowl and already placed the chunk of quartz at the bottom. As he pours out the water, Rey lights the candles.

“Oh, before we begin.” He says, then rolls up his sleeves and with a snap of his fingers, bid the office door closed and the drapes snap shut.

Rey darts a glance to the wand strapped to Armitage’s forearm then meets his eye, her eyebrows raised with questions. He gently shakes his head, indicating that he’ll tell her about it later.

“Now,” He begins. “Just breathe.”

He watches carefully as she centres herself, breathing calm and evenly. Around them, the office falls into a watchful quiet, even the songbirds have settled down upon Armitage’s antlers to watch. The electric light buzzes overhead like a bee passing on the breeze, and from without, a few lonely voices echo down the hallway.

Rey leans towards the bowl of water and concentrates. Armitage watches how the lines on her forehead crumple and them smooth out as she works, a serenity falling across her young face. An eye twitches. She leans closer to the bowl with pursed lips.

Outside the room, the wind picks up, rattling the branches of the tree against the window. The silence is so complete that Armitage can hear his pocket watch ticking and can feel the beat of his heart, he can feel his body pulsing with it.

“Hmm,” Rey mumbles at long last. “I can only see the Hill of Tara but it’s faint. Like I’m looking at it from very far away?” She glances up at Armitage curiously. “Like I’m looking for the best way to walk there.”

“May I?” Armitage asks. When Rey sits back with a nod, Armitage gently slides the black bowl towards himself, taking care not to slosh the water around. “Let me have a go.”

As he focuses on the quartz at the bottom of the bowl, he feels his worries falling away from him like articles of clothing. When he feels light, he drifts and images begin to reveal themselves to him.

He too sees the Hill of Tara but it’s much closer like he’s standing at the base of it and looking up. He begins to make his way to the top of the hill where the stone of destiny perches atop the mound that marks the entrance to his father’s home. Is his father at home currently? It’s been so long since Armitage has seen him.

Once he’s gained the top of the hill, he looks all around the valley. As he turns to the east to look towards the ocean, the image reflected in the surface of the water ripples and shifts to a large and horrid eye. The sclera of the eye is terribly yellowed and sick looking, the iris is blood-red and the pupil is hugely dilated. Armitage watches, with a fascinated horror, as the eye focuses on him but there doesn’t seem to be any hint of recognition there. Armitage can see his own frightened face reflected back at him before the eye blinks as blood-red tears begin to spill out from the corner of the eye. A flash of white light fills the room, momentarily blinding him, as the water from the bowl evaporates with an ear-shattering hiss.

Blinking rapidly to clear the dancing spots from his eyes, Armitage looks to Rey to confirm she’s okay. Her eyes were as wide as dinner plates as she sits bolt upright in her chair, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“What…”

“Well,” Armitage looks down at the bone-dry bowl and cracked quartz. “Well.” He repeats himself as he looks up at Rey. “_That_ has never happened before.”

\----

Armitage slowly walks home along the river, letting the familiar briny, oily scent of the water calm his racing mind. Not to say that he wasn’t alarmed by the results of his scrying, for he was, but at the moment he’s more curious. One vision has never broken through another like that - such a thing has never happened before. What does it mean that it happened now? Is it significant? Or, did he and Rey just focus too much combined energy on the bowl and the vision collapsed under the pressure.

Rey had made no mention of a monstrous eye in any of her dreams or visions, and neither had Kylo. The interrupted vision and the haunted eye are both too unusual not to pique Armitage’s curiosity and his extensive notes and sketches have now nearly filled all the pages of his tattered, leather-bound notebook. The well-used book is full of dog-eared pages and secrets.

A rumble of distant thunder heralds his arrival moments before Armitage hears Kylo hailing him from across the street. The songbirds chirrup in delight then flutter away from Armitage to greet Kylo coming across the Mellows Bridge. 

“I got us burritos from that place we like,” Kylo says by way of greeting, holding up a large brown paper bag in his right hand. He plants a deep, smacking kiss on Armitage’s smiling lips. “Have I got some stories for your little notebook, babe.”

Armitage smiles, the pressures of the day dropping away fast and furious now that Kylo is by his side again. 

“As do I, my love.” He links his arm with Kylo’s as they head towards the flat. “Today has been quite astonishing, to say the least.”

\----

Once at home, Armitage watches with amusement as Kylo sets down the bag of takeaway on his wingback chair then, motioning for Armitage to stay where he is, hurries to the linen closet and returns with arms overflowing with spare quilts and blankets. Armitage smiles fondly as Kylo arranges a tidy nest of quilts and pillows on the floor between their two chairs, then stands back proudly to survey his work.

Kylo collects some candles from the bookshelf and holds them out to Armitage with a grin and so Armitage obliges with a snap of his fingers causing the candles to flare to life. With the weather still rather blustery and grey, Fintan and the others decide to stay in and instead perch on the back of Armitage’s threadbare chair.

“I thought we could have a picnic for dinner tonight.” Kylo says, arranging the candles on the windowsill.

He helps Armitage with his bag and mantle before kicking off his boots and shucking his hoodie.

“I can see that, love, a splendid idea.” Armitage smiles as he relinquishes his satchel to Kylo’s helping hands.

They settle into their nest of blankets with their picnic - a vegetarian meal for Armitage, chicken for Kylo, and a side of tortilla chips and salsa for the birds. They swirl around Kylo’s head, singing their thanks before noisily, and messily, digging into their dinner.

Kylo tells Armitage about the mysterious happenings that followed him throughout the day, Armitage hastily scribbling notes in his book while chewing bites of his burrito. Fortunately for Kylo, the odd events haven’t escalated in any appreciable way, he still feels as if he’s being followed and noticed the occasional strangely placed shadow, but has had no dreams or visions as of yet.

“It’s almost like, whoever this is, is conducting reconnaissance on us.” He says, sitting back and stretching his legs out in front of him.

“How so, love?” Armitage asks, not looking up from his notes, not wanting to miss anything that might be the key to unlocking this mystery.

“Well,” Kylo continues. “When Nuada was still alive and he’d be preparing for war, he’d send me and Ogma out first. To assess numbers, strengths, the lay of the land. That type of stuff.”

Armitage stops writing and looks up with interest. “So you think that whoever this is, might possibly be checking to see how many we are?”

“Could be,” Kylo muses. “It’s what I would do if I was planning a move.” He shrugs. “That yellowed eye is more troubling though - that can’t possibly be a random vision.”

“My thoughts precisely, love, but-” Armitage tosses his notebook aside and crawls forward on his hands and knees until he’s sitting between Kylo’s sprawled legs. “-the meaning is unclear. The eye definitely did not recognize me, nor did it seem to be searching for anything.”

“So you don’t think it was someone breaking into your scrying session?” Kylo says as he reaches for Armitage’s hand. Armitage shakes his head. “Just a pure vision, then? Or whoever it was, doesn’t have your level of technical ability?”

“I think not.” Armitage scoffs, then sobers quickly. “If it were my father or one of the others, I know they would find a more obvious means of communicating with us. I will think about it.” He twists in Kylo’s lap and summons his satchel into his hands, he opens it for Kylo to see. “I brought home some books from my library. They might offer some solutions.”

Kylo grips him suddenly by his upper arms. “You’ll tell me as soon as possible if you see the eye again, right? It might not be safe.”

“I will,” Armitage wriggles free so that he can capture Kylo’s face in his hands. He holds Kylo’s sober golden-brown gaze for a few moments. “This is serious business, something is afoot in Dublin and we do not yet know if these newcomers are friend or foe.”

“Yeah but, babe, if they were friendly, wouldn’t they have shown themselves already?”

“Ah, perhaps. Yes,” Armitage reaches for his wand tucked snugly in its vambrace, and with a graceful flourish sends a tendril of magic curling towards the wards covering the front door to their flat. They glow bright blue indicating that they’re functioning strongly. He sighs with relief. “But, the city is full of strange creatures besides us, they could be cautious.”

Kylo nods his head from side to side, indicating it could be either-or. “I say we do our own reconnaissance, see what more we can find out about them, then decide how to act.”

“Agreed. And I will do any scrying from home, where it is more protected.” Kylo presses his forehead against Armitage’s with a whisper of thanks. Armitage rakes his fingers through Kylo’s thick hair, tucking it behind his large ears. “Fintan?” Armitage looks over Kylo’s shoulder towards the birds now perched along the arm of Kylo’s chair. “I know I have been keeping you close, but would you be willing to do some investigations for us, see what you can see? Fionnbarr? Farrell? Phineas? What say you?”

The birds chatter in agreement and the six of them spend some time making plans, Armitage takes notes all the while. Once they have the sketchy outlines of their own maneuvers and the birds have sleepily taken themselves off to roost for the night, Kylo heaves to his feet.

“Let’s put a pin in it for tonight, start fresh tomorrow?” Kylo says, stifling a yawn.

Armitage opens his mouth to reply but before he can, he’s whisked up and into Kylo’s strong arms and carried through the kitchen to the bathroom. He snaps his fingers and from within the bathroom, the taps open to begin filling the tub with warm water.

“Not too tired to bath, I hope,” Armitage says.

“If the day ever comes that I’m too tired to get naked in the bath with you,” Kylo says, tightening his hold on Armitage and gently swinging him around to close the door. “Just send me back to Tír na nÓg.”

Armitage smothers a laugh against Kylo’s mouth as he pushes the bathroom door closed with the tips of his toes.

\----

Armitage awakens gently with the slightest of exhales. He’s been floating in dream space and it always takes a few moments to return to his body. The sky above the bed is a deep velvet blue with wisps of clouds tangling in the corners of the bedroom like cobwebs and the moon has already traced its path across the night sky - it appears he’s been dreaming for some time now.

Beside him, Kylo curls with his back to Armitage but still close enough to touch, his tangle of wild hair spills across the pillow. The curls beckon Armitage so he buries his face in the knot of Kylo’s hair and inhales. He smells slight damp but with a tang of iron and smoke, neither of them have shed their previous lives so easily - Kylo always carries the faint smell of the battlefield with him.

Pressing a barely-there kiss to the back of Kylo’s neck, Armitage slips from their humid bed taking his wand and a discarded sheet with him. Wrapping the pale blue sheet around his hips, Armitage drifts from the room like a wraith, leaving the bedroom door partly open, and into the parlour where the remnants of their picnic remain. He settles down on the nest of blankets and pillows and pulls his satchel full of books towards him.

As he begins paging through a book on divination, the rustling of the pages awakens Fintan who, along with the other birds are roosting for the night. Fintan ruffles his wings as if he would take flight but Armitage shushes him and lulls him back to sleep, there’s no need for the entire flat to keep him company this late at night.

Eventually, Armitage sets the books and his notes aside and lies back to contemplate the newly gathered information. Allowing his eyes to drift to half-mast, he drifts almost back into dream space searching for an answer. The strange events of the last few months tangle and untangle themselves in front of his eyes but he’s not one step closer to solving this riddle. Is someone going to make an attempt on his father’s life? Or is he being needlessly paranoid and it’s perhaps something more innocent? Perhaps a curious new neighbour? One of a thousand possibilities unravels before him.

But what of that bloody eye?

He can’t see the whole picture, if only he knew which direction in which to look.

Armitage drifts, weaving the threads of possibilities together, then unmaking them. He spins new and different theories only to discard them and start anew. His woolgathering is interrupted when a body lands on the blankets beside him, grunting and enveloping him in humid, familiar heat.

“Kylo, what are you doing awake, my love?”

“Couldn’t sleep without you,” Kylo mumbles as he nestles closer, dragging the blankets from the bed over them both.

Armitage smiles down at the beloved head of wild, tangled hair as he pulls his arm out from beneath his head to wrap it around Kylo’s shoulders, encouraging him ever closer. Kylo mouths a muzzy kiss to Armitage’s collarbone as he begins to drift back into slumber, Armitage idly sweeps his fingernails gently over the warm skin of Kylo’s shoulder, his unfocused gaze returning to the ceiling.

With Kylo softly snoring in the curve of his body, Armitage drifts again. As the quiet returns to the small flat, the birds coo to themselves as they dream and Armitage spins a new theory with his smattering of clues.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dublin is an enchanted city, there's no doubt of that, but hidden amongst its population of busy citizens, gods, fairies, and other mythical creatures, a shadow of darkness has begun to spread. A chance encounter provides Kylo and Armitage with their first real clues to the growing mystery.

Generally, it is considered a rule that for the time of humankind to begin, the time of the gods and magic must end. Gods retreat into their _Sidhe_ mounds, great heroes pass into legend, and high kings become a myth themselves. Generally, this is the rule, but not always. Dublin is a city blessed with magic due in no small part to Armitage and Kylo’s presence; all manner of creatures from tiny pixies and lesser fae, leprechauns and red men, and even kelpies are drawn to the magic Armitage and Kylo track across the city.

Beyond the city’s mythological inhabitants, the magic works in other less mysterious ways. The weather is always just right, the countryside perfectly green and verdant, the Liffey always flows calm and serene; visitors to the city remark on these facts with delight, it’s part of what draws them to Dublin. This magic works on the people as well - when you have the god of poetry on hand, the music flows finer, the poems and stories unspool effortlessly, the wit and vivacity of ordinary people sparkles.

There’s no doubt about it. Dublin is a charmed city.

Even now, after weeks to months of uncertainty and the scent of danger ever-present, tonight is a blessing. The sky is clear of the constant cloud cover, allowing the dark cloak of deep velvety blue night with its garden of stars to be admired and marvelled over for the first time in months.

The entire city must be occupied with the night sky, Armitage muses as he and Kylo go hand-in-hand to the Cobblestone Pub where they are to meet with Finn and his bandmates. For a Thursday night in the middle of summer, the streets and bridges are rather quiet, they only begin to encounter more people as they draw closer to Smithfield Square.

Inside the long room of the Cobblestone pub, the evening is already well underway. The front room is full of thirsty patrons and the trad session has begun. The three fiddlers are expert musicians and while the crowd is appreciative of their talents, more people belly-up to the bar than pay attention to the music at the moment.

Kylo has Armitage’s harp case slung over his broad shoulders so he navigates his way through the narrow room first, clearing a path for Armitage to follow in his wake. The second room of the pub is quieter but no less busy; the small bar is doing a brisk business and most of the tables are full, later it will be standing room only. Kylo hands over the harp to Armitage so he can weave his way through the people and get to the bar.

The small stage is already mostly set up for tonight’s musical performance. Finn’s guitar and bouzouki are already sitting proudly in their stands, awaiting his talented hands. Three other chairs are set out - two for Armitage and Kylo, and one for Jim, who plays the fiddle - the other member of Finn’s band, Poe, is at home with a virulent summer cold thus necessitating Kylo and Armitage’s participation tonight.

Armitage nods to Rey, seated by herself at a small black table off to the side, a notebook open on the table in front of her. Fintan and the others eagerly desert Armitage for her and they alight daintily on the table around her, singing merrily. Taking the harp out of its protective case, Armitage settles down in the chair to tune the instrument. He runs his hand gently over the arch and down the soundbox; flipping some levers up, he experimentally plucks at the strings, making sure it's in tune.

Kylo thought he was being very clever by quietly and carefully replacing all the old, worn-out levers and pins with bright shining new parts as if Armitage wouldn’t notice an improvement in the sound of the plain, sturdy harp. The new silver levers sparkle in the glare of the stage lights. Kylo had also replaced the pillar and the feet with new pieces and these were more obvious because the new parts were stained a deep, rich red whereas the rest of the harp was a honeyed brown; still, it made the old harp unusual and striking, and Armitage was happy to tell anyone who asked, the replacement levers and pins helped the harp to sing again.

No matter how precisely he tuned the harp, it would forever have a rich, throaty sound, quite the opposite to the silvery tones of his Ardala. It couldn’t be helped, they were different instruments. With the strings tuned to his satisfaction, Armitage joins Rey at her table. He flings his mantle over the back of the chair as he sits.

“Where’s Kylo?” Rey asks, marking her place in the book with her pen.

“He will be here imminently.” Armitage nods towards the bar where Kylo is weaving towards them, three glasses of whiskey cradled in his large hands. “Where are the others?” He indicates the empty stage with a shrug of his shoulder.

Kylo sits down in the small chair with a satisfied sigh and passes around the glasses of whiskey. Armitage shoos Fionnbarr away from his glass and he croaks a reproach at Armitage and hops across the table to perch on Rey’s forearm.

“Oh, the sound technician was going to be late so Finn and Jim ran off to get something to eat.” She pushes her glass towards the bird with a smile. “Here, Fionnbarr, have some of mine.”

Fionnbarr alights on the rim of the glass and gracefully dips his sleek, dark head down for a sip. He looks up at Armitage with a rather smug expression on his beaked face. Armitage shakes his head.

“You spoil them.”

Rey smiles as she strokes her fingers down Fionnbarr’s black and white plumage. “It’s fine, we all deserve treats.” She coos at the small bird who chirrups happily at her.

Kylo shuffles his chair around the table to sit closer to Armitage. He slings his arm across the back of Armitage’s chair so that Armitage can cuddle into Kylo’s side, his thumb rubs absently over the fabric of Armitage’s shirt.

“Have you been having more dreams?” He nods towards her notebook. The open page is full of her small, cramped handwriting.

“I have,” She confirms. She flips through the previous four pages, skimming her notes. “I’m more and more convinced that the Hill of Tara is important.” She taps one of the pages with her finger. “The faceless mob always advances on the hill.”

“Well, it is the seat of kingship,” Kylo says. He slides his hand up from Armitage's shoulder to ruffle through the short hair at the nape of his neck. “I think we should send word to The Dagda, babe, he should at least know of our suspicions.”

“I was thinking the same.” Armitage agrees. “He will do as he will, but at least we can warn him.”

A commotion by the door of the pub draws their attention - Finn and Jim have returned, with the sound technician in tow. The tall, shaggy youth hurries to the soundboard and urgently begins flipping switches and turning dials as Finn and Jim take the stage. Settling in his chair, Finn smiles broadly at Rey, blowing her several kisses before picking up his guitar.

“I think we’re up, babe,” Kylo says eagerly. He downs the rest of his drink and goes to take a seat beside Finn.

Armitage, not having Kylo’s strong stomach, takes a final sip of his drink then brings the crystal tumbler with him as takes his place behind his harp on the stage.

Finn drags a sturdy black box out from beneath his chair. From within, he removes Poe’s concertina. He grins at Armitage.

“Do you want to play it?” He holds it out. “I know Poe was teaching you. He asked me to bring it for you.” He wiggles the instrument invitingly as Kylo smiles encouragingly.

Armitage’s fingers tingle with magic and anticipation. He did want to try the concertina; he couldn’t compare to Poe’s skill, or Kylo’s, but Kylo is an outlier, he tells himself, he’s every skill rolled into one person. He nods and he and Kylo switch places so that Kylo can take over on the harp. A chorus of besotted sighs rolls through the crowd as Kylo seats himself behind the harp; he is very dramatic looking with his windswept tumble of hair and unusual eyes. Plus, the harp looks like a toy in his massive hands as he settles the instrument back against his chest in preparation.

“I only know one song,” Armitage says as he takes the concertina from Finn. “_The Wise Maid_.”

“That’s fine, that’s a great one.”

Finn counts them in and together, they launch into the song. Finn is right, it’s a good song; the reel is cheerful and repetitious so that Armitage’s long fingers can fly easily over the buttons of the concertina, even if working the bellows is unwieldy to him.

One of the things that Armitage finds so delightful about a simple reel is the easy repetition of the bars of music - it’s not that he doesn’t need to pay attention to what his hands are doing, or where they are in the song, a reel is simply a fun, uncomplicated piece of music. It is an easy enough style that everyone, from small children to godlings, starts learning on reels and jigs. When Armitage himself was newly born and still overflowing with bright, burning magic, before his full powers truly manifested and he learned to control them, he began with reels on his faithful harp.

Armitage feels himself sink into the easy atmosphere of the room. The crowd is enthusiastic and begins to clap and stomp their feet in time to the music; their carefree air and unfettered emotions are starting to influence Armitage himself, his burdens feel less worrisome. His half-closed eyes meet Kylo’s. He gives himself over to the shiver of warmth and uncomplicated joy that ripples through his body when Kylo smiles at him. Kylo plays the harp with great expression and dexterity, even if the set of his arms and hands on the strings isn’t quite as elegant as Armitage’s.

Out of the corner of his eye, Armitage notices Finn nodding to someone in the crowd. He turns in time to see a short young woman with dark hair encouraged to her feet by her tablemates. The assembled crowd cheers as she tentatively begins to dance in time with the music. There isn’t much floor space along the front of the short stage so her travelling steps are tight and controlled but her footwork is precise with dainty taps of her toes on the floor and whip-smart kicks and turns.

A whistle pierces the air. Armitage glances up to see Rey with her phone out, obviously taking photographs the performance. She glances up at Armitage over the top of the phone and he shakes his head minutely at her - she knows he has forbidden any footage of he and Kylo to be splashed around. His glamour could hardly keep them protected if they went about courting attention. Rey flaps her hand at him as if telling him not to worry.

They reel the song into its conclusion, ending with a flourish. The dancing girl makes an embarrassed little curtsy, a bright smile on her face. She turns to say thank you to Finn and Jim and Armitage's breath catches in his throat and a bolt of fear arrows down his spine as she glances his way. Her eyes flash a terrifying yellow and red, similar to his visions. Then she blinks and they return to a normal, decidedly non-supernatural deep brown.

It was all in his head. Obviously. The dancing girl isn’t some unknown horror here to snatch Armitage away. She’s a normal person, just one of Rey and Finn’s school friends, he tells himself.

Large, warm hands cup his face, tipping him up towards the lights. Kylo plants a reassuring kiss to his forehead.

“Alright?” He whispers, stroking his thumbs along against Armitage's chilled, clammy skin.

When Armitage nods, Kylo takes the concertina from Armitage’s nerveless hands in order to gently propel Armitage across the stage and back to his harp. Seated again at his harp, Armitage relaxes his clenched muscles, bunched as if they expected flight, as he pulls the instrument into his shoulder. He drags his fingers over the strings in a series of glissandi, centring himself, then nods to Kylo, who’d been watching him with a worried face.

“Let’s get on with it,” Armitage says and Kylo smiles, eyes bright under the stage lights.

\----

“My love, I wish you would not always choose that song for a duet.”

“Hmm?” Kylo pulls his gaze away from the star-speckled sky, his eyes are dreamy when he looks at Armitage. “Which song, babe?”

“_The Parting Glass_.” Armitage huddles closer to Kylo as a gust of wind purls up the narrow street. The birds had long taken refuge in the hood of Armitage’s mantle, they chirrup indignantly at the sudden cold wind.

“Why? What’s wrong with it? It’s traditional, and you sing it so beautifully.” Kylo pulls them to a stop so he can catch Armitage’s chin between his fingertips. “I love when you sing it. The way you look at me when you do - it’s like you’re looking at me for the very first time.” He strokes the pad of his thumb over Armitage’s bottom lip. “And every time after that.”

“Oh.” Armitage darts his gaze towards the houses behind Kylo’s shoulder, unable to bear the depth of emotion in Kylo’s fathomless bright-dark eyes. “Don’t say that love, you’ll make me come over all soppy.” He lightly smacks Kylo’s bicep.

“Good.” Kylo grins as he leans in, pushing Armitage gently back against the stone wall that surrounds a playground on this side of the street. “I like when you get soppy over me.” He lets his hands fall from Armitage's face down to gather up his hands and bring them to his lips for a kiss.

Armitage tugs a hand free so he can reach up to twirl one of Kylo’s errant curls around his forefinger. “I’m always soppy over you and if we were home right now instead of kissing in the street like youngsters, I could show you.” He sweeps the loose curl behind Kylo’s ear then grazes his knuckles along Kylo’s jaw.

An indecent gleam lights up Kylo’s eyes as he leans in. He opens his mouth to reply when the wind carries the sound of claws scrabbling over the stone and a gravelly voice chattering to itself. He flattens Armitage to the wall, protecting him with his body and the hard case of the harp slung along his back.

“Do you have your wand?”

Armitage tips his head back to gaze into Kylo’s face.

“Always.” He whispers the words for Kylo’s ears only. He wriggles his hand from its place trapped between their chests down to graze his fingertips over the handle of his wand safely tucked into the vambrace on his left forearm.

He nods to Kylo and Kylo takes as stealthy a step backwards as he’s able to with the unwieldy harp case on his back, a finger pressed to his lips indicating quiet. Armitage draws the wand from out of his sleeve, the runes carved into the wood glow softly.

Together, they creep down the street, hugging the tall stone wall for cover. The chattering and squawking continues but doesn't appear, to Armitage’s ear, to be moving. The creature, whatever it is, seems stationary, to simply be waiting for them but not actively searching.

Just before they reach the corner of the street, Kylo waves for a halt, the harp case shifting him slightly off-balance when he stops. He glances over his shoulder and silently points towards the intersection of the two narrow streets. Armitage rises up on his toes to peer over Kylo’s shoulder and following the direction of his pointing hand, Armitage sees a large, round mirror mounted on the wall of the building on the corner. Because the intersection is narrow and visibility is low, the mirror is there to help drivers navigate the turn. Thanks to a combination of Armitage’s glamour, and the scratched, weathered surface of the mirror, Armitage can see the creature reflected in the gloom but it does not appear to see them approaching.

The shadowy thing is perched on a parking enforcement sign, ruffling its wings and squabbling with itself, or to some unseen companion.

“To sleep, to dream.”

Armitage aims his wand as a bolt of amber light whips away from them, ricochets off the mirror and hits the beast squarely in the chest. With a stunned croak, it thuds to the ground and Kylo grabs Armitage's hand, pulling him quickly around the corner. They skitter to a stop in front of the black, feathery heap.

“Shit, babe, you didn’t have to kill it.”

“I didn’t.” Armitage frowns. “It should be asleep.”

They only get a few seconds to study the feathery body, leathery wings, and horrible vulture-like head before the curious thing disintegrates into a pile of ash. A gust of wind kicks up, gathering the ashes and other debris on the street into a dust devil that swirls up the street before dissipating entirely.

Armitage gaps at Kylo. “Well.” His mouth flops open as if he’d say more, but he’s shocked into speechlessness.

Kylo scrubs his hands through his hair causing his top knot to nearly unravel. “You’re not going to like this.” Kylo says, his shoulders slump as he reaches for Armitage's hand. “But I think I have some ideas about who’s behind all this.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage and Kylo's encounters with the strange, new interlopers become more immediate and deadly and Armitage begins to fear the worst - if Kylo is correct in his theory, something very dangerous is marching towards them even now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring art by @xylavie of our favourite god and his songbird companions. Thank you!!

Armitage exits the Arts building letting the door slam closed behind him. He flinches at the loud boom that echoes around the deserted campus square. Odd, he thinks as he glances around, that the school grounds should be so quiet at this time of the evening.

He consults his pocket watch then glances up to the night sky, strangely starless and shrouded in a weird gray-green mist. Armitage frowns. It shouldn’t be so dark at only seven o’clock, the sun should still be visible in the sky. And where was everyone?

Something that sounds like a trickle of falling pebbles draws his attention to his right.

Seeing nothing, he draws his collar and scarf close and begins the long trek across the square to the gates of the campus and onwards to Kylo and home.

He’s not even halfway across the yard when he becomes aware of an unnerving scuttling of claws behind him, following him, trying to move silently. Armitage quickens his step.

Weird, fantastical shadows linger in the corners of his eyes as he hurries but the click-clack of the clawed footsteps dogs his own, however, as eerie laughter rings out and reverberates off the stone buildings and echoes unpleasantly in his head.

Armitage gathers himself to run but icy, bony hands seize his arms, dragging him back a few paces. He lets out a small sob as the hands bind him tightly, he jerks his face away from the cool fingertips that drag down his cheek in a mocking caress.

“Well, well, what have we here?” A shivery voice hisses into his ear. “If it isn’t a baby god out all by himself without his big, strong bodyguard.”

Armitage gasps as the cold, hard edge of a blade is pressed to his throat.

“Well, my beauty.” The cold voice continues, pressing the knife into the soft skin of Armitage's throat. “You get to be the first to know we’re back, and this island is ours.”

Armitage screams as the blade tears across his throat, slicing him open, his blood bubbling forth. The bony hands throw him to the ground as the laughter rises in pitch all around him.

He jolts awake with a gasp, one hand flying to his throat, the other colliding with the wall in his search for Kylo. He bolts upright, panting, tears brimming.

It was simply a dream.

Armitage is at home in the spare little flat he and Kylo share with the bedsheets tangled tightly around his narrow hips. Kylo is nowhere to be found though, Armitage hopes he hasn’t gone far.

Kicking his way out of the tangle of sheets, Armitage swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands, taking one of the bedsheets with him, the simple linen sheet offering a modicum of comfort and security. He wraps it around himself as he hurries to check on the protective runes he’d painted all over the flat. Stumbling through the parlour to the front door in the kitchen area, Armitage presses his hand to the faded paint of the door, the markings gently illuminating in a soft white light beneath his hand.

Satisfied, Armitage returns to the parlour to check the windows. The spells are still holding strong around the window frame and so he breathes a small sigh of relief. Clutching the sheet to his chest, Armitage gazes down at the rectangular St. Catherine’s park across the street from his flat. It’s late May so the park is blooming after its long winter slumber; the trees are starting to bud and the grass is looking decidedly greener and less weary and trampled. The street below is quiet; there’s no traffic on the narrow street and only the occasional pedestrian passes beneath the window.

Armitage glances behind him at the flat. It still looks like mostly Armitage’s flat, from the writing-table with his schoolwork, to his harp and overflowing music stand, to the bookshelf packed with mostly his books. But as Armitage looks closer, the signs of their shared life are evident in the second wingback chair that occupies the space across from his, two teacups sitting forgotten on the windowsill, Kylo’s sword and shield tucked into the corner of the room.

He allows his eyes to linger of the weaponry. Was his dream portentous? Would Kylo again need to take up his sword and shield and fight? He has only just recovered from his terrible injuries from last winter when he fought his way back to Armitage’s side. He shivers and returns his gaze to the street below, pulling the sheet tighter around his chest.

A mother with her two small children and a very large dog pass beneath his window. The children giggle as the dog licks their hands then dashes away, only to return a moment later, fan-like tail wagging furiously, encouraging the children to play. Armitage grins as the two children tear off after the dog leaving their mother to chase after them. The tension drains from his body as he turns away from the window to return to the bedroom.

Armitage unwinds the white bedsheet from himself and unfurls it over the bed. He crawls into bed, burrowing under the covers and curling tightly into a ball so that only his antlers are visible above the quilts. In the quiet of the flat, he tries to parse the meaning of the dream as he waits for Kylo’s return. Prophetic or not, the dream would require some dissection on his part. Was it his overtired mind running wild due to the stress of the peculiar events occurring in the city since the early winter, or was it something more nefarious? He never liked trying to glean meaning from dreams, they were too tangled and too unreliable.

He and Rey had been working to understand the meaning behind the symbols and signs in her visions, and while her dreams seemed straight forward from the outset, they had proven difficult to unravel. Even now, after intense scrutiny, he and Rey had some basic theories but no way to know if they were right. At least, no way to know until the strange events they seemed to be predicting come to pass. Armitage shivers beneath the rumpled sheets - he doesn’t know whether to pray he and Rey are right, or wrong.

Tucked safely away in bed, Armitage curls in upon himself and listens to his heartbeat. He allows himself to sink into a meditative state, paying attention to the feel of the soft, wash-worn linen on his overheated skin, the delicate brush of his long eyelashes on his cheeks. As the nauseating rush of adrenaline slows, he’s able to think about the dream in a more rational way.

_We’re back, and this island is ours._

That seems like a very particular statement, in Armitage’s opinion. And the way the unseen speaker had referred to Armitage, and Kylo like they knew them both.

He entertains the idea for a moment, that perhaps Manannán mac Lir has somehow found a way back to torment them further. Kylo had been reluctant to speak about it when they were reunited, but Armitage gathered that Kylo’s foster father wasn’t going to be haunting them from that day forward.

_This island is ours._

That statement troubles Armitage down to his very core because if it means what he thinks it means, Kylo is right in his theory. And, if Kylo is right, it means their potential destruction is marching towards them at this very minute. Everything they hold dear will be in danger. A tremor runs through Armitage's entire body at that thought.

Thankfully, a low rumble of thunder sounds in the distance, heralding Kylo’s imminent return. Armitage breaths a loud and noisy sigh of relief and allows his eyes to drift closed now that Kylo is on his way home.

The downstairs door slams and Kylo’s heavy tread can be heard on the stairs. The door to their flat flies open as Kylo bursts in, bringing the warmth and life back to the flat. Fintan, Fionnbarr, Farrell, and Phineas flock into the room ahead of Kylo, they circle around the ceiling once before coming to perch on the headboard and twitter excitedly at Armitage. Their small, bell-like voices are eager and insistent so finally, Armitage unearths himself from the blankets and sits up on his knees, hands clasped loosely in his lap facing them.

“One at a time, my friends.” A smile tugs at his mouth as the birds dance and sing in front of him. “Fintan, you first.”

Kylo steps into the bedroom at that moment, drawing Armitage’s attention away from the birds. He glances over his shoulder to see Kylo in the doorway, a blue bakery box in his hand, his mismatched gold and brown eyes soft as he gazes at the curve of Armitage’s naked back. Kylo’s gaze sweeps up to meet Armitage’s eye and the slightly haunted look he sees there must alarm him for he crosses the room in two large strides to throw the bakery box down on the bedside table. He kicks off his boots and crawls into bed, gathering Armitage into his arms they burrow down into the blankets together.

“What is it, babe,” Kylo whispers, concerned, against Armitage’s cheek. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I had another dream.”

“Tell me.”

\----

In the first few months after their reunion, Kylo was content to spend his time recovering from his injuries and basking in Armitage’s attention. He seemed satisfied with staying home in their little flat or visiting Armitage at school, and occasionally exploring Dublin on his own since the city had changed in many ways from when he knew it last.

Armitage had occasionally worried that Kylo would grow restless; city living was a soft and decadent life compared to one spent constantly on a campaign. As the god of poetry and harper of the Tuatha Dé Danann, it had been relatively easy for Armitage to blend almost seamlessly into the university community and present himself as an eccentric teacher of medieval and early Irish languages and music. What place in this modern Dublin would there be for a warrior god? How was a storm god to be employed?

A solution presented itself so handily one day, that Armitage wasn’t sure why he ever worried.

Once recovered sufficiently, Kylo took up running and it was on one of his daily excursions that he discovered the King's Gambit School of Medieval Arts in a renovated warehouse space near the Smithfield Square area. He had stopped to read the posters in the windows advertising a full schedule of classes and workshops of the medieval arts, ranging from longsword and rapier, quarterstaff and archery. They even taught falconry, mounted combat, and melee. Among the notices Kylo perused that day, he spotted one advertising for a new swordsmanship and combat instructor and immediately went in to speak with the manager. The staff had taken one look at his impressive height, breadth of shoulders, and powerful arms and nearly hired him on the spot. When they saw him at work with a sword and shield, it wasn’t even a question of whether they’d hire him.

All of the admirable qualities that made him such an exemplary leader of the Tuatha Dé Danann served him well as a medieval arts teacher. All his workshops and classes were popular and the owner of the studio had asked if he wanted to teach at the so-called Knights camp for children in the summer months.

Armitage had taken a few of the swordsmanship classes to brush up on his more practical fighting skills - The Dagda had always said he relied too heavily on his magical abilities. He loathes to agree with almost everything his father says but, in this instance, he was right, Armitage’s skills with all sorts of non-magical weapons were rather rusty. Armitage would never admit this to anyone, however, much less his father. Once, he had admitted his father was right about some small matter and the smug look on The Dagda’s face had been burned into Armitage’s brain forever.

While he doesn’t always accompany Kylo to the studio, today, however, the sinister echoes of the dream still play in front of Armitage’s eyes and he can’t bear to be alone. When it came time for Kylo to leave for the studio, Armitage got dressed and shuffled his notebooks and schoolwork into his satchel and accompanied Kylo to his workplace.

Armitage settles in one of the comfortable chairs in the small waiting area off to the side of the entrance, near the check-in desk and wall display of sword and heraldry, and begins to make notes about his dream. He finds his eyes drifting back to Kylo again and again though. Kylo is dressed casually and for ease of movement in soft, black running tights and a loose white henley shirt. His feet are bare. Armitage watches Kylo move with grace around the large studio space, first as he ties his hair back, then as he stretches to warm up, then as he fusses about with the equipment, rolling over a cart full of tiny practice swords and lumpy crash pads.

As he warms up, Kylo keeps catching Armitage’s wandering eye and winking at him, or flexing his impressive biceps causing Armitage to flush up to his hairline and hide his blushing face in the pages of his notebook. They repeat this dance for another ten minutes until Sorcha, the woman staffing the reception desk this afternoon, bursts out laughing.

“You guys are adorable.” She says as the door to the studio slams open and a stream of small children stampede in followed by one or two parents.

The children swarm around Kylo who drops to one knee to greet them, listening solemnly as they each tell him about their day. Armitage is heartened to see that none of the children seem alarmed by Kylo’s scared face or mismatched eyes. The children seem to be telling Kylo about a career day event they had at school that afternoon and Armitage thinks he might die of the sweetness as each small student tell Kylo about their hoped-for future career. Kylo nods sagely and compliments each on their career choice of artist, writer, or shark doctor.

Once they’ve all had their chance to talk to Kylo, the students hurl their coats and knapsacks against the wall and begin warming up, following Kylo’s instructions to complete ten jumping jacks. Armitage giggles softly as he watches them; they’re all so tiny and Kylo is so massive.

Two of the girls and three of the boys produce artwork from their bags and dance around Kylo, eager to be the first to give him their art. Armitage’s ears perk up when he hears Kylo tell one of the girls to bring the artwork to “the red-haired man by the window”.

“Who is that?” She whispers back, looking up at Kylo.

He grins down at her then darts his gaze to Armitage, eyes softening as they hold each other’s gaze. “The most important person in the whole world to me.”

“He’s pretty.”

Kylo hides a burst of laughter behind his hand. “He is, indeed. Now,” he looks down at the girl again, “can you give him the art for safe-keeping and then we’ll begin.”

The girl hurries towards Armitage as Kylo turns back to the class, rushing to stop the boys from practicing their wrestling lest they get injured. Armitage keeps his eyes on his notes until the small girl taps his knee to get his attention. She silently hands him a raft of colourful pictures and handmade cards then turns to go but pauses. She turns back to him and leans in.

“I like your birds,” She whispers. “And your crown.”

Armitage gapes at her as she dashes back to her class. Crown, he wonders. She must mean his antlers since they do curve in an aesthetically pleasing way around his head. He’d always thought that Rey was a unique case, to be able to see through his glamour to his true self, but apparently it’s a talent that more than one clever girl in Dublin shares.

As the class begins, Armitage finishes up his notes and takes his schoolwork out to start on marking the week’s assignments but his attention is constantly returning to the class. Kylo’s small students are enthusiastic and what they lack in control, they make up for with energy. Kylo valiantly tries to lead them through the basic guards of the longsword but he spends more time than not separating the boys who seemed determined to impale each other with the blunt plywood practice swords.

When the hour is up, Kylo looks decidedly more ragged than he did when he walked into the studio but he’s still smiling brightly as the students line up for farewell high-fives, handshakes, or hugs, whichever they wish. The girl who had delivered the artwork to Armitage waves politely to him as she leaves with her mother. The birds twitter and flutter their feathers at her as she gasps, charmed before her mother sweeps her out the door.

\----

With the final class of the early evening over, Kylo’s advanced students line up in a tidy row at the edge of the mat and salute him. He nods to each in turn, his golden eye gleaming brightly due to the exercise. His white henley is dampened with sweat and sticks to him in all the best places, in Armitage’s opinion, clinging to his broad chest and biceps. Making his notes and analysis of his alarming dream have helped to purge it slightly from his mind, and now, Armitage finds that he’s most eager to get Kylo home.

As the students help Kylo with tidying up the sparring space, the clean-up goes much faster than usual and soon the students are filing out the door, waving their goodbyes to Kylo and Sorcha. Kylo materializes at Armitage’s side with a smile.

“Oh,” Armitage says, feigning surprise as he quickly puts his schoolwork away. “Have you finished already, I hardly noticed. My, how the time does fly.”

Kylo snorts as he catches the handles of his bag with his foot and tugs it out from beneath Armitage’s chair.

“Yes, I noticed you were _so_ busy with your marking.” Kylo grins at Armitage as he pulls out his gray hoodie and slips it on over his head. He sits down beside Armitage to put on his socks and boots. “Although, you’re a bit flushed, babe. You feeling alright?”

He grins as he dances his fingers across Armitage’s cheek and down his neck where the faint stain of blush still lingers. Armitage shivers before batting Kylo’s teasing hand away.

“Hush, love, everyone will hear.” Armitage stands and offering his hand to Kylo, hauls him to his feet. “Are you ready to go?”

Kylo nods as he takes his jacket from the chair back and swings it up and over his shoulders. Because his hair is a bit damp, and the temperatures at night can still be chilly, he takes a black toque from his jacket pocket and tugs it over his damp curls. He shoulders his duffle bag then takes Armitage’s satchel from him and slings it across his back as well, then laces his and Armitage’s hands together.

“Goodbye, Sorcha, I will be here on Tuesday for my next class.”

“Oh wait,” she calls as she hurries around the counter, a white business card in her hand. “Here, this is the information for Brian’s armourer, give him a call sometime.”

Kylo nods his thanks as he bundles Armitage out of the studio and into the fresh evening air of Smithfield Square. Hand in hand they cross the cobblestone courtyard, passing a few people out for an early dinner and some teenagers hanging out smoking and gossiping.

“What was the card Sorcha gave you?”

Kylo digs the small card out of his pocket and hands it over to Armitage.

“My armour is in pretty good shape, there’s nothing wrong with it that I can’t repair myself, but needs some work - the edges are dull and the flats are pitted.” He darts a glance at Armitage out of the corner of his eye. “Also, it’s important for you to have proper armour and weaponry, besides your magic, of course, I think we both know we’ll need it.”

“I’m afraid you’re right, love.” Armitage squeezes Kylo’s hand as he leans into his side with a sigh. He glances down at the pristine white card.

Feargus macCian

Armorer, Leatherwork, Craftsman

County Swords, Ireland

Armitage giggles as he turns the card over to read the rest of the contact information.

“How appropriate for an armourer to live in County Swords.”

Kylo laughs as they meander their way through the twisting streets angling towards the river and home. Armitage hands the card back.

“So you will contact him tomorrow?”

Kylo nods. “I was hoping I could use your computer.”

Armitage smiles fondly. “Of course, come to my office tomorrow for lunch and you can use the computer then - I’ve noticed it is how people prefer to do things these days.”

Kylo nods agreeably as he snakes his arm along Armitage’s shoulders in order to pull him closer. They stop at the corner just before the bridge that will take them over the river and home. Kylo perks up.

“Babe, let’s stop at the Spar, I want to make something special for dinner.”

Armitage hardly has time to nod in agreement before Kylo is whisking him across the street, narrowly avoiding the oncoming traffic, and into the market. Kylo grabs a wire basket from the stack by the door and they zigzag through the store, picking up a selection of vegetables, pasta, and cheeses before stopping in the aisle with the pasta sauces.

“There are far too many choices,” Armitage remarks after a moment. “Who knew there were this many types of tomato sauce?”

Kylo grins as he crouches down to peruse the jars on the lower shelf. He selects a jar of nearly neon orange sauce and holds it up for inspection. “Look at this one,” He squints at the label. “‘Rose’, surely that’s not a natural colour?”

Armitage waves it away and chooses a simpler variety of sauce instead. As he’s carefully placing it into the basket so as to not crush the delicate vegetables already in there, the door chimes and a gust of cool night air ruffles his hair as the glass shop doors slide open.

All the hairs on the back of Armitage’s neck stand upright as Kylo bolts to his feet beside him. The birds, who had been quietly huddled together companionably on Armitage’s antlers, dive for the safety of his coat collar and scarf.

The new shopper has a peculiar gate, lopsided and rolling, with a heavy tread followed by the click of something that sounds like claws on the tiled floor. Kylo quickly rises to his full height, turning to Armitage he nuzzles into his hair pretending to be simply an ordinary couple out shopping for their dinner, his fingertips wiggling beneath the cuff of Armitage’s coat, feeling for his vambrace and wand. He presses the ghost of a kiss to the shell of Armitage’s ear.

“Stay here, but be vigilant.” He whispers before vanishing from Armitage’s side.

“Fintan, go with him, please,” Armitage mutters. Fintan darts after Kylo, keeping himself low to the ground.

Armitage pretends to peruse the shelf of canned goods while keeping a surreptitious eye on the shadowy newcomer. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Kylo casually strolling along the aisle parallel, his eyes fixed on the strange figure.

Sensing they’re being watched, the stranger glances around and all Armitage can make out from beneath the figure’s hood is a pair of beady black eyes. An irritated hiss slithers out of the interloper's mouth and they turn and scuttle out of the shop, claws scrabbling for purchase on the tiled floor.

Kylo reappears at Armitage’s side in an instant, Fintan perched on his shoulder.

“Let’s go.” He whispers urgently, taking the wire basket from Armitage’s cold hands.

Together, they quickly pay for their items and exit the shop via the second set of doors. Fintan and the others take flight to quickly search the area for the strange creature. Farrell swoops down to perch on Armitage’s antlers, letting them know the way seems clear. Kylo nods his thanks but to be safe, they hurry back towards the flat by a more circuitous route, doubling back and back and taking a different bridge back to The Liberties.

When they’re sure they haven’t been followed, they make a beeline for the flat, where the birds are already waiting for them perched on the hanging lamp fixture above the door. Kylo unlocks the door and ushers them all inside, closing the door securely behind them and waiting for Armitage to inscribe a few extra runes on the door before they head up to the safety of their flat.

As Kylo takes the shopping bags into the galley kitchen, Armitage takes his satchel and Kylo’s duffle bag into the parlour, he then hurries to the window to make sure it is firmly shut and locked. He draws the heavy curtains closed with a flourish and turns to the birds, perched along the back of his chair.

“I’m sorry, my friends, I think it best if we all stay inside tonight.”

They trill in agreement. Armitage unbuttons his mantle and flings it over the back of his chair.

Armitage unbuckles his vambrace and sets it on the bookshelf, but brings his wand with him as he returns to the kitchen. Kylo has already hung up his jacket and is putting away the groceries with a thoughtful expression on his face. Armitage leans his hip against the chipped countertop, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Dinner first, or shower?” He asks Kylo. “Or talk.”

Kylo looks up from unpacking the groceries, his expression clears. “Bath, for sure. My hair is damp from class, it’s making me itchy.” He squeezes Armitage's elbow. “We’ll add the Spar incident to your notebook later, I don’t think either of us will be forgetting it anytime soon.”

Leaving Kylo to attend to the groceries, Armitage sees to the bath. The pristine white-tiled bathroom appears small upon first glance, but looking carefully, the small, magical adjustments Armitage have made become apparent. The room doesn’t look like it should be able to accommodate such a wide, deep claw-footed tub but through Armitage’s clever spellwork, the walls adjusted. Really, such a large bath is entirely necessary; they are both taller than the average Gael, Armitage is all legs, and Kylo has the breadth and bulk of a warrior, they really need the extra space.

Tapping his wand on the dials, the taps open and warm water gushes out to slowly fill the tub. Armitage selects a small bottle of essence from the basket on the floor beside the tub; the bottle is labelled ‘liquid sunshine’ and a cheerful and lively orange blossom scent fills the room as he adds it to the water. With a wave of his wand, the candles placed along the edge of the tub spark to life, lending a soft, flickering glow to the room.

Armitage has just finished folding his clothes neatly on the counter when Kylo steps into the room. He pushes the door halfway closes with his foot as he reaches out for Armitage. With a wave of his hand, Armitage closes the taps and the flow of water drip-drops to a stop and he allows himself to be folded into Kylo’s arms. Kylo’s hands glide down the slope of Armitage’s back, coming to rest comfortably on the curves of his backside and he buries his face into Armitage's neck, nipping at him playfully.

“You’re very sweaty, my love,” Armitage says, stepping lightly out of Kylo’s arms, his nose wrinkling.

“You didn’t have any objections last night.” Kylo grins wolfishly at him as he pulls his hoodie and henley over his head, letting them fall carelessly to the tiled floor.

“My goodness, what a line.” Armitage laughs as he accepts Kylo’s helping hand into the perfectly scented water.

Kylo follows Armitage into the water, settling himself between Armitage’s legs and resting his back against Armitage's chest. Their hands slick over each other, their touches soothing and reassuring. Armitage takes up the glass pitcher from the corner ledge and nudges Kylo forward so that he can douse his head with warm water. Kylo sighs in pleasure then swept his sopping wet hair back from his face. He settles back against Armitage contentedly, sighing again when Armitage’s arm come up to wrap around his chest and shoulders.

They doze together in the safe cocoon of the bath, the warm water and soft light lulling them gently. The peace is interrupted when Kylo’s stomach rumbles, the sound bouncing off the tiled walls and making Armitage giggle.

“We should have eaten first, love, you’re hungry.”

“‘S fine, babe, just wanted to be with you.” Kylo mumbled sleepily. He reaches for Armitage’s hand to play with his fingers.

“What was the special thing you wanted to make for dinner?”

“Oh,” Kylo perks up. In a great tidal wave of water, he turns so that he and Armitage are pressed chest to chest. The water splashes up and over the side of the tub. “It’s something called ‘lasagna’.” He flicks his tongue over Armitage's nipple, causing him to gasp. “I saw Padraig eating it for lunch the other day so I asked him what it was. He gave me a strange look,” Kylo shrugs then rests his chin on Armitage's chest, “I don’t know why - it’s a valid question. Anyway, it looked good; vegetables and cheese and meat all in one dish!”

Armitage giggles as he cups Kylo’s face to guide him up for a kiss. “Sounds delicious, love.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage, Kylo, and Rey have their suspicions and theories as to the cause of the strange events around Dublin, but they have nothing solid to go on. A familiar face arrives who might provide some much-needed information.

“Mmm, yes. Just like that, love.”

Armitage arches his back to better press his chest into Kylo’s large hands. They had been lazily trading kisses and caresses for awhile now, and Kylo’s hand has worked its way beneath Armitage’s layers of clothing to pluck and tease at one of his nipples. Kylo’s other hand is firmly attached to Armitage’s hip, holding him securely in his lap as they sit in Kylo’s lounge chair near the window of the parlour.

Sliding his hands into Kylo’s dark curls, Armitage pulls him closer and nips at Kylo’s full bottom lip. If it were possible, Armitage would spend hours upon days worshipping Kylo’s lips - they could be fierce when pulled back in a war cry, but usually, they are plush and full, and just made for kisses.

He’s about to suggest they move to the privacy of their bedroom when Fionnbarr, Farrell, and Phineas streak through the open window and flock around the high ceiling in a flurry of wings and flashing colours. Their musical voices are high-pitched and excited and Armitage reluctantly drags himself away from Kylo to glance up at the birds.

“What is it, my friends? Who’s coming?”

A gentle rapping sounds at the flat’s main door causing the birds to swoop down and perch lightly on Armitage’s antlers, still twittering away.

“Are you expecting someone, babe?” Kylo asks, rubbing his hands up and down Armitage’s thighs.

“Not at all.” Armitage, now slightly concerned, heaves himself to his feet, assisted by Kylo’s hands on his hips. “No one should be able to find this flat, I have seen to the protective wards myself.”

With two light steps, he gathers his wand from the bookshelf and followed by Kylo, now with one of his wickedly sharp skians in hand, approaches the door. The ogham script of the wards glow faintly blue as Armitage approaches so he knows they are active.

“A circle of gold,” He draws with his wand. “And another of red to keep us safe and out of the land of the dead.”

The large circles of gold and red float in front of Armitage like a shield. Kylo places a careful hand on Armitage’s hip to draw him back a pace into the shelter of Kylo’s body and together, they step towards the door.

Armitage reaches over his gilded shield to tap the door frame three times with the butt of his wand and the door creaks open an inch, enough for him to spy the curious face of Rey peeking back at him. Behind him, Kylo chuckles, breaking the tension. With a sigh of relief, Armitage snaps his fingers and the shield of red and gold disperses in a wisp of golden shimmer, he pulls the door open wider and ushers her inside quickly.

When she’s through the door and safely in the parlour, Armitage taps the door again, this time with the point of his wand and the wards burn brightly before fading away. He turns to her, noticing that Fintan is nestled in the hood of her jacket.

“Rey, what brings you here?”

She darts a glance between he and Kylo, taking in Kylo’s bare feet and tousled hair, as well as the rosy flush staining Armitage’s cheeks and neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his rumpled shirt.

“You tell me. Fintan showed up at my flat a half hour ago and insisted I come over. I was worried something was wrong.” She arches an eyebrow gleefully. “But I see that everything’s fine.”

No sooner has she spoken then three firm knocks sound again on the flat’s front door. The three of them glanced at each other, concern plain on Kylo’s face, curiosity on Rey’s. From his place in Rey’s hood, Fintan trills excitedly, joined by the others.

“Rey, stay behind us.” Armitage motions her to step further back into the parlour.

Kylo presses up behind Armitage again, skian at the ready, as Armitage redraws his shield. This time, he alters the spell so the shield is larger, blocking more of the doorway to protect not only he and Kylo but also Rey who is taking shelter in the parlour. The shield shimmers blue and white as he moves it forward with a flick of his wand. Together, he and Kylo move within an arm’s length of the door and Armitage reaches forward to tap the door with the wand.

“_Oscailte_.” He whispers, crouching slightly behind the shield as the door flies open.

He gasps.

Standing calmly on the landing is a tall woman, as tall as he and Kylo, but with a beautiful heart-shaped face and long red hair cascading down her back in a series of complicated braids and curls. Armitage waves away the shield as she smiles at him.

“Brigid,” Kylo snorts from behind Armitage. “This can’t be good.”

The strange woman steps lightly across the threshold and into the flat. 

“Well, hello to you as well, brother-in-law,” Her voice is high and fluting, she smirks at Kylo. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Kylo shrugs and steps out of the kitchen and into the parlour, returning his skian to the bookshelf. Brigid moves to follow but she stops in front of a still-surprised Armitage. She cups his face and gently traces the pad of her thumb over his cheekbone.

“It’s so good to see you again, little brother, I’ve missed you terribly.”

“I as well, Brigid,” Armitage says as he follows her and Kylo into the parlour. “But what are you doing here and how did you find this place?”

Brigid sweeps across the room to sit in Armitage’s chair regally, like a queen, her long legs crossed at the knee. Her simple clothing belies her elegant manner however; she’s dressed in brown leather leggings, tall boots, and a green anorak. With a rosy blush to her fair skin and long red hair, she looks exactly like a hearty farm maiden from a fairytale. Kylo sits across from her, his hand sliding protectively around Armitage's waist as he comes to perch on the arm of the chair. The birds settle again onto his antlers.

“Who is this?” Brigid waves her hand in Rey’s direction where she’s leaning against the windowsill.

“This is Rey, my acolyte,” Armitage says by way of introduction. “Rey, this is my sister, Brigid, goddess of the dawn.”

“Whoa.” Rey breathes, her eyes gone a bit starry.

“Acolyte?” Brigid arches an eyebrow skeptically and drums her fingers on the upholstered arms of the chair. “Since when do you take on acolytes - you said no more after Diarmuid.”

“Rey is a very talented seer,” Armitage says as Rey crosses her arms, a mixture of pride and fondness on her face as she looks between them.

“And she’s a good friend,” Kylo adds, then pauses, cocking his head to the side. “Brigid, why are you here? We’ve had no contact with anyone in ages.”

Armitage runs a hand through Kylo’s curls, smoothing them down a little, before resting his hand comfortably at the nape of Kylo’s neck. Kylo, for his part, settles back into Armitage's touch, his spiky energy calming somewhat at the loving touch.

“About a month ago I noticed something odd in the sea off the coast near Drogheda as I drew the dawn across the sky.”

Armitage leans forward with interest - finally some information that hasn’t come from dreams or visions. He leaps up and hurries to his writing desk. Digging through his satchel, he returns to his seat with his journal and fountain pen. Reseating himself beside Kylo, he gestures for her to continue.

“I wanted to confirm what I was seeing before I came to you so I kept watch and even though I only saw it once more, I thought it best to tell you.”

When the three gods are silent, only the scratch of Armitage’s pen over paper, Rey breaks the quiet.

“So… what did you see?” She prompts, leaning forward eagerly.

Brigid twirls a lock of her long, fiery hair around her finger as she searches for the right words.

“I hope it’s nothing but the way the birds were fleeing from it, it couldn’t be natural.” She pauses. “It looked like the ocean was belching up some sort of oily substance, the water was covered in iridescent green-purple sheen for quite some distance.”

“And there’s nothing there that could cause something like that?” Rey asks, tapping her finger to her lips in thought. “Not an oil spill, or some dead animal? A whale, or something?”

“I don’t think so, there was no external cause, or so it seemed.” She releases her hair and leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “The oily substance was wholly coming from within the ocean itself.”

Kylo slips his large hand around Armitage’s, stroking his thumb over the knuckles of Armitage’s narrow hand. He looks up at him, mismatched eyes serious.

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“No, nor I, my love.” Armitage tangles their fingers together and holds tight. “The implications for us are not good. Brigid,” He flips to the beginning of his journal. “This is only the latest in a long line of strange occurrences we’ve been witnessing.”

The three of them take turns bringing Brigid up to date on the odd happenings that each of them have witnessed over the last few months and she listens closely, her hands steepled beneath her chin.

“We’ve sent a message to The Dagda, but he seemed unconcerned,” Kylo says.

“Yes,” Brigid says, shrugging one shoulder. She grins at Kylo, her eyes flicking to Armitage. “Our father will do as he will but… is he safe there at Cnoc na Teamhrach?”

“We think so,” Armitage replies. “For now, the Hill, the River Boyne, and all the _Sidhe_ mounds should be safe but should these visions and dreams come to pass, the rabble of darkness must not be allowed to take the Hill or the sacred valley.”

“That is serious indeed,” Brigid says, pushing her hair back behind her ears. “I knew I was right to come and talk to you. Midir thought I should not bother you.”

“Well, that’s always been Midir’s approach, he hates to get involved lest things get messy,” Armitage growls.

“Brigid,” Kylo says, laying a soothing hand on Armitage’s knee. “Would you be able to ask the others if they have seen anything similar to what you’ve described to us?” He rubs his hand over Armitage’s knee in small circles. “Or could you ask if any of them have had strange dreams or visions?”

“Of course,” She nods. “I will send word if I discover anything.”

“Would the others-” Armitage hesitates, unsure of the answer, “-do you think the others could be convinced to leave the _Sidhe_ mounds to assist us if something more nefarious was afoot?”

Kylo’s hand convulses on his knee tightly as Brigid sighs.

“I don’t know, brother. Some could be persuaded, I think - you know how more and more they hate stirring from beyond their doors as time passes.” She stands to take her leave. “All we can do is ask.”

Armitage nods, deflated by her unenthusiastic response.

“Leave it with us for now, we’ll go to Drogheda and find out what we can.” He says, tucking his notebook and pen between the arm and cushion of the chair then getting up to walk Brigid to the door while Kylo disappears to the bedroom to get dressed. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

At the door, she embraces him, her arms wrapping around his waist tightly. Armitage strokes a hand down her long hair, tugging playfully on the braids. She leans back with a grin, wiggling one of his antlers.

“Boann sends her greetings,” She says. “She told me that she knows you and Kylo were near Brú na Bóinne lately, she bids you come visit her, next time you’re in the area.”

Armitage nods. He gathers up her hand and presses a kiss to her fingers. “We will, of course. Now, stay in touch, anything, no matter how insignificant you think it is, could be of great importance.”

“You will hear from me soon,” Brigid promises.

She opens the door and is gone in a flash, her fleet footsteps echoing up the stairwell. Armitage closes the door, locks it tightly, then presses his hand against the door frame and activates his protective wards.

“So there’s really a goddess of the dawn,” Rey says as he returns to the parlour. Armitage huffs and rolls his eyes teasingly.

“Yes, she is-” He begins to say before Rey cuts him off as wooden wheels can be heard rumbling away on the street below.

“There a chariot down there!”

“Yes, that is how she carries the dawn across the sky.”

Armitage turns to Kylo as he re-enters the parlour, dressed to go out. He rolls up his sleeve and holds out his arm so Kylo can strap his vambrace into place, then slide the wand home. He smiles up at Kylo as he twitches the cuff of his shirt down to cover the wand then fiddles with the buttons on Kylo’s navy peacoat as Rey continues to marvel over the fact that Brigid exists.

“You know, you already know two gods,” Kylo teases as he takes his sharp skians from the bookshelf and secrets them upon his person. “That’s two more than the average Gael knows.”

“I know,” She says with a grin. “Sometimes it doesn’t seem like real life.” She holds out her arm for the songbirds to alight upon as Armitage goes to the bedroom to fetch his coat and boots.

Kylo makes an amused noise of agreement as Armitage returns, his mantle in hand. He swirls the heavy garment up and around his shoulders then lets Kylo fuss with it until the heavy wool drapes and hangs from his shoulders properly.

“Rey, do you want to come with us to Drogheda? Your second sight would be useful.” Armitage asks, reaching over to tug the collar of Kylo’s coat into place.

“Of course,” She says, leaping up from her seat at the window. The birds take flight to circle her head once before returning to Armitage. She takes her keys from her pocket. “I brought my truck, it’s just parked around the corner.”

Kylo looks at her quizzically. “Truck? What do we need that for?”

“We have a faster way.” Armitage takes Kylo’s hand and motions with a nod of his head towards the bedroom for Rey to follow them.

The three of them gather in front of the closet door in the bedroom.

“Why is there a portal in your bedroom?” Rey asks as Armitage takes out his wand and begins inscribing the Ogham characters on the darkly stained wood of the door. 

“It’s the safest place for it,” Armitage says. “Where else would we put it, the bathroom?”

He and Kylo laugh as Rey just rolls her eyes.

“Oh my gods.” She mutters to herself, sparking fresh peals of laughter from both Kylo and Armitage.

“Alright, hush now,” Armitage wipes at the tears in the corners of his eyes. “I need to concentrate.” He finishes drawing the runs over the wood of the door and the characters burn brightly as he recites his spell. “To Drogheda, we’ll go, Drogheda by the sea. The maiden’s tower is where we want to be.” The script glows brightly and the crash of sea echoes faintly around the room.

“Open the way,” Kylo whispers.

Armitage pushes the door open cautiously, then takes Kylo’s hand and leads them through the blackness beyond.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following Brigid's information, Armitage, Kylo, and Rey go to the beach near Drogheda and their discoveries there lead them one step closer to the truth, and a plan of action.

Armitage pushes the salt-spattered, dried out wooden door open a few inches to let the sound of the roiling waves rush into the tower room. He coughs at the unexpected brine in the air, behind him, Kylo breathes deeply and sighs. Armitage peers cautiously through the sliver of the open door and seeing no one about, opens the door wider. The hinges make a satisfyingly rusty squeal as they protest their moving, the door cracks and shifts ominously - constant exposure to the elements have not been kind to it.

The three of them stroll through and onto the beach as jaunty and confidently as you please as if they belong there. Armitage turns to close the door and taps it three times with his wand.

“Remember us.” He whispers. The door and the swaying tower above groan, and he takes this as a sign of agreement.

He descends the two steps to the beach where Kylo is waiting. Rey has already run ahead a few feet and is soaking in the salty, fresh air with her head thrown back.

“That was incredible-” She said as she turns, the wind tearing away her words. She stops at the sight of the tower looming on the bluff behind Kylo and Armitage and any colour the sea air has put into her cheeks drains away as she gaps up at the rickety, rather unimpressive stone tower.

“Rey?” Armitage starts.

“That’s-” She stumbles over her words. “That’s the tower from my dream.”

Armitage and Kylo turn to follow her pointing hand to look back at the tower from which they’d emerged.

“You're sure?” Kylo shouts into the wind. “I didn’t think it was a real place!”

Rey nods, astounded at the turn of events.

“If your suspicions are correct, love,” Armitage says to Kylo. “This will be the starting place.” 

Armitage glances up the beach as he weaves this new piece of information into the map laid out in his head. The Cnoc na Teamhrach is some distance to the west from this beach, it would be a matter of a few hours march and one could be there. The terrain is very easy; green gently rolling hills, large open fields with no steep hills or valleys to pose a challenge.

“Let’s look around, see what we see,” Kylo says as he comes down the rickety wooden stairs and onto the beach proper.

Armitage squeezes Rey’s shoulder reassuringly. “Do not be afraid, the pieces are beginning to move into place. That’s a good thing.”

“I’m not afraid,” She says. “It’s just unsettling. I thought the tower was purely symbolic, but it turns out it’s the starting point for… what? What do you think is going to happen here?”

Armitage tucks her hand into the crook of his elbow and they follow Kylo down the stairs to the white sand of the beach.

“Kylo will be better at explaining that I, he has first-hand knowledge,” Armitage says, the wind tearing his words away. “We have our suspicions that, like in your visions and mine, an army will come ashore here and try to march on the sacred Hill of Tara.”

Rey looks past Armitage towards the rolling ocean, the waves a dead and dull slate colour beneath the lead-gray sky above.

“When will you know for sure?”

“Thanks to Brigid, we are here looking for any signs,” Armitage pats her hand reassuringly. “We can theorize later if we find anything.”

Rey looks at him for a long moment, her eyebrow quirked into a question mark, but then simply nods and moves off down the beach, obviously needing to be alone to process the day’s events.

“Fintan and Phineas, would you go with her, please?” The birds leap from Armitage’s antlers into the spiral of an updraft and are carried high up and away from him, then they plummet gracefully down to race each other along the beach chasing Rey’s retreating figure.

Kylo takes Armitage’s hand and together, they follow Rey along the beach at a more staid pace. It is no easy feat to find anything amiss on a beach - the waves wipe the sand clean every other second and there’s so much detritus piled up from the ocean’s labours, that they could be forgiven for walking right by something that has no place on a beach in Drogheda.

A few bits of green and blue sea glass sparkle amid the piles of bleached white shells. Kicking through them though, they reveal a dazzling array of colours - pale oranges, warm browns, and cool greys. Kylo finds a delicate sand dollar with its shell still intact, the beautifully etched star on the curved side in perfect condition. He presents it to Armitage with a kiss, and laughing, Armitage carefully stows it away in one of his many pockets.

The air is ripe with the scent of rotting seaweed, there are knots and tangles of it all over the tide line. Stacks of smooth driftwood too, worn soft from the action of the water. Fionnbarr and Farrell hop down from Armitage’s antlers to flutter around the gnarled driftwood.

“Hey!” Rey calls to them, waving to catch their attention. “Does there seem to be more dead fish than usual around here?”

“Now that you mention it,” Kylo mutters to himself, looking carefully at the beach.

Armitage breathes deeply and yes, Rey is right, he definitely smells more than simply the decay of the seaweed. Now with fresh eyes, they see petite bones littering the beach, little arched fish spines with the needle-like dorsal ribs attached. Further along, Kylo picks up a fragile fish skull, blanched creamy white from the sun - he looks at Armitage, unsure what to make of it.

As they pick their way towards Rey, the fish bones turn into full decaying bodies of fish, white bellies turned towards the sky in their agonized death throes. Odd, Armitage thinks, but not terribly unusual. He thoughtfully eyes the violently churning ocean and the smear of thunderheads in the distance - a sudden storm might have tossed the unfortunate fish on the beach. However, he crouches down to examine one of the bodies, none of the fish had been scavenged by the gulls or local cats. That was strange, surely?

“What’s all this black gunk?” Rey beckons them over. “It looks like oil.”

A low, rumbling growl begins deep inside Kylo’s chest as the two of them stop beside Rey at the edge of the spill of black sludge. The oily sheen is everywhere on this section of the beach, coating the sand, rocks, shells and seagrass in an iridescent black slick - he glances towards the water where even more of the sheen can be seen on the waves rolling up the beach, as Brigid said. Kylo lunges forward and extracts a sticky, tar-coated sword hilt with a partial blade from the muck and all hope within Armitage drains away as his fears and theories are confirmed with once glance at the poorly constructed blade. 

“By the stars,” Kylo mutters numbly as the thunderheads swirl above him. “Armitage, I didn’t want to believe it but look-” He holds up the broken blade. ”The Fomorians really are back.”

A crack of thunder rips across the sky, so close that the sound of it forces Armitage and Rey to cover their ears. The sudden scent of ozone fills the air, filling Armitage with panic. He turns to gaze out over the oil-slicked water with sightless eyes.

What good would the two of them be against an army? If the other Tuatha Dé Danann would not come to their aid, Armitage and Kylo would be almost powerless to prevent the Fomorians from sweeping over the land and regaining control. It would be just like it was before when they lived under the Fomorian thumb, forced into undignified labour and having to pay unsustainable amounts of tribute, to say nothing about what the Fomorians might do to the people that now populate the island.

Kylo hurls the sword pieces to the ground where they shatter further from the force of his throw. He flings off his coat and begins to unlace his boots.

“That’s it! I’m going to deal with them right now,” he shouts into the rising wind. “Those traitors, we had a signed peace deal.”

He marches past Armitage and Rey, rolling his sleeves up as he goes. The electricity and ozone from the gathering storm overhead flow off his body like wings.

Armitage and Rey catch him just in time, just as the waves begin to lap at his toes, they pull him back onto the beach.

“Be sensible, love,” Armitage says, patting him on the cheek to gain his attention. “You’re one against an army, as powerful as you are, now is not the time to fight.”

Kylo looks down at Armitage’s determined face and deflates slightly. The electricity and thunder that had been rippling over his body and through his hair subside taking the storm clouds overhead with it. The sky clears from the ugly green colour it had turned during Kylo’s fury, back to the leaden gray it had been for many months now. He allows Armitage and Rey to tow him back up the beach to his coat and boots.

Rey gathers up the pieces of the sword and hilt and hands them to Armitage. He scrubs them through the sand, trying in vain to remove the oily slick from the Fomorian forges before squirrelling the sword parts away in the folds of his mantle.

“Armitage,” Kylo’s says as he shoves his feet back into his boots. “What do we do? The treaty, the agreement that we struck; that I, that Nuada, that _your father_, signed with them. They broke it.”

“They did, love, and now it looks as though we shall have to decide what to do about it.”

\----

Armitage opens the door an inch to peer out. Seeing no one about, he leads a still-glowering Kylo, a thoughtful Rey, and a jumble of very worried songbirds out of the martello tower and along the narrow winding road. Around the front of the tower, among the rose bushes, a group of tourists waits for admission but they hardly look up as the strange company passes them, a few curious glances are directed at Rey, at her rather wind-blown appearance and an inch or two of black sludge staining her boots and cuffs of her jeans.

“I think we need a more neutral place to dissect everything we have just learned,” Armitage announces as he leads them towards the pier of Dun Laoghaire.

“Maybe I’m the only one,” Rey pipes up. “But I have a lot of questions.”

“I know, I know.” Armitage pulls them to a halt before they join the crowds. “We will explain, but first-” He gently places his right hand on her tangled hair. “What glamour protects me, protects he now protects she, allow us to walk and talk where none shall see.”

The spell filters over Rey like dust motes floating in a sunbeam and she wobbles on her feet slightly with the intensity of it.

“Whoa.” She latches on to Armitage’s elbow to steady herself.

“That’s not permanent, is it, babe?” Kylo asks. “That might make it difficult for her to go to school.”

“It is not.” Armitage leads them forward again but at an unhurried pace. “The glamour doesn’t stick to humans the way it does to us.”

They stroll along the pier, unnoticed by the crowds around them. The momentary glances of the people they pass linger for a second, then slide quickly away as if Armitage, Kylo, and Rey are nothing of interest. The crash of the waves against the stone pier, the splash of sea spray, the gulls overhead offer more interest than three seemingly ordinary people out for their own afternoon constitutional.

“This is amazing.” Rey breathes. “People see us, they just don’t notice, or care to notice.”

“Mm-hmm.” Armitage nods, glancing over at Kylo. He weaves their hands together and holds tightly as Kylo leans in for a kiss. His eyes have lost their frantic, haunted look from the beach and now hold a new determination.

“And you walk around like this all the time? Both of you.”

“Yes, it keeps us safe so that we can go about our business here in the upper world.”

“But,” Rey pauses. “I can see you both. I saw you that day in the library, antlers, birds and all.”

“It is a rare gift, to be sure,” Armitage smiles down at her. “But not unheard of. There have always been those who can commune with the gods. The Druids used to help maintain the Sidhe mounds and perform the rituals, you’re just following in an ancient tradition.”

Rey looks dubious. “That seems like a lot of responsibility.”

Kylo and Armitage laugh. 

“At least we haven’t asked you to build us a temple,” Kylo teases. “Or a new Stonehenge. We could, you know.”

“Oh my goddess, imagine the paperwork involved!” Rey laughs.

“I know, the permit office is dreadful.” Armitage snorts.

Still giggling, Armitage leads them to the lighthouse at the end of the pier. They skirt around the weathered structure, its white and red paint job faded by the sun, water, and time, to find a wide set of stairs leading from the platform down into the churning ocean. They sit.

“Now, where to begin.” Armitage muses as Rey huddles closer, eager for events to begin making sense.

“Start with Nuada, babe, it’s where this whole mess began.” Kylo rests his hand on Armitage’s knee.

With a flourish, Armitage pulls his rowan wand from the sleeve of his mantle. Pointing it at the blue-grey ocean, he chants to himself quietly and bids a misty figure rise up out of the water. The mither clears to reveal a tall, handsome man, decked out in the regalia of kingship with a golden circlet nestled proudly in his flowing red-gold hair. He looks every inch a king, stepped directly from the pages of a history book.

“This is Nuada, our former king,” Armitage says. He flicks his wrist and the figure of Nuada moves to draw his sword as he slowly turns to engage a sudden mob of shadowy chimerical creatures, dark and dreadful, that have risen out of the water behind him.

Nuada confidently blocks the rain of swords, throwing the creatures off him with his shield as if they weigh nothing. He parries and slashes, gains watery ground, then loses it. His mouth opens in a silent scream as one of the creatures strikes his unguarded right side, severing his arm at the elbow. The figure of Nuada dissolves in a haze of sea spray.

“It is difficult to explain the Fomorians,” Armitage says, gazing out at the water. “They have always seemed to be here and have always harried the settlers of Eire, as far back as Nemed and his people.”

“But what are they exactly?’ Rey asks.

“Well, if the Tuatha Dé Danann are the light, the Fomorians are the dark.” Armitage snaps his fingers and more shining figures rise up out of the ocean. “Where we are the gods of light, poetry, the arts, and they are agents of chaos and destruction.”

Rey nods, following easily. “What happened to Nuada?”

“He lost his arm in the First Battle of Mag Tuired, and because he was no longer physically perfect, he lost the crown to Bres,” Kylo says. “It was the worst decision we ever made.”

Armitage beckons to one of the watery figures and a regal man, as beautiful as Nuada but blond, strides towards them.

“Bres betrayed us,” Armitage says. “He allowed the Fomorians to overrun the land.”

Behind Bres, more figures materialized out of the water and the figures dip to their knees in submission before Bres. They pay him tribute with purses overflowing with gold coins, perform menial tasks for him, but the final insult comes when Bres strikes the captive gods, physically attacking them.

Rey watches the scene play out, gasping with Bres cruelly attacks the clearly downtrodden gods. She shuffles closer to Armitage so she can loop her arm through his. Armitage slashes his wand through the scene, sending the figures plunging back into the waves.

“How did you escape from Bres?” Rey asks.

“Dian Cecht, the physician god, created for Nuada a silver arm and thus he was able to resume his kingship,” Armitage replies, waving the figure of Nuada forward again.

Nuada strides confidently out of the waves, his silver arm glittering brightly in the weak, watery sunlight. He clashes with Bres, their swords flashing as they slash at each other. Both are evenly matched and they circle each other warily, looking for an opening. Like a snake, Nuada darts forward and manages to disarm Bres, defeating him. 

“After Nuada regained the crown, Bres turned to his Fomorian supporters for help,” Armitage says. With another flick of his wand, Armitage sends all the figures back a few feet as a silvery bright figure now emerges from the mist. “When Bres and the Fomorian army threatened to overrun us all, we were fortunate then, that a warrior arrived to help us.”

Armitage smiles proudly at Kylo and reaches up to tuck Kylo’s flyaway hair behind his ear then cup his cheek.

“Kylo was instrumental in our victory,” Armitage continues, gesturing to the watery figures to move forward again.

As they watch, the two sides engage in battle while the silvery figure of Kylo wheels and dances his way through the mob, his sword and shield glinting as he moves. He is all grace and speed as he cuts down the Fomorians as he makes his way to the large figure in a mask who leads the nightmare rabble. The giant slowly begins to remove his mask to reveal a horrid yellow eye and Kylo pulls a sling from his belt.

“The Fomorians were led by Balor of the Baleful Eye - his gaze was so poisonous, anything that he looked upon would die instantly.” Armitage narrates as the Kylo-figure pulls back his arm and lets fly the rock from the sling. The stone hits Balor square in the eye, knocking his eye backwards which causes the figures of the Fomorian army behind him to vapourize into the mist.

The rest of the Fomorians give up the battle for lost and they too, dissipate into the sea spray leaving only the figures of the gods standing alone before Armitage waves them away as well, and the mist clears.

“This was known as the Second Battle of Mag Tuired.” He says. “Nuada was killed, unfortunately, and the Fomorians agreed to a peace treaty with us.”

“So,” Rey says, gnawing on her bottom lip, eyes distant as she sees into the long distant past. “The Fomorians are back? What do we do about it?”

“Face them,” Armitage says, sliding his wand home in his vambrace.

“Fight them,” Kylo adds. “One last time.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been quiet, too quiet for Armitage's liking. Now that the Fomorian plan has been uncovered, Kylo and Armitage have nothing to do but wait for the fiendish plan to be enacted. How and when will the Fomorians march out from the sea and is there any way Armitage can predict their movements? A chance encounter nearly leads to disaster for Armitage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have updated the tags for the fic to include "blood and injury" because there is some fighting in this chapter. I didn't update the overall rating for the fic because I don't describe the fighting in gory detail, I think it's pretty mild overall. If you are anxious about this, I would suggest skipping to chapter 10 - when it's posted - because the final showdown between the gods and the Fomorians is coming up.

Things have been quiet. Too quiet for Armitage’s liking.

The Fomorians have been difficult to track across the city lately. They’ve made no incursions into the neighbourhood, there’s been no further reconnaissance - Armitage assumes that this is due to the fact that the Fomorians have discovered that there’s only the two of them, he and Kylo, and are not deemed much of a threat.

What’s two against the horde of darkness?

Life seems to have returned to a frighteningly normal routine. The weather, however, refuses to cooperate and all anyone can talk about is how this is the year summer never arrived in Dublin. Indeed, the solid gray skies and the chilly wind never seem to abate, not even for one moment.

Armitage didn’t need to resort to haruspicy or arithmancy to know their enemy was biding their time. Although he had not yet made a study of it, he assumed something was holding them back, some predetermined signal or date has yet to arrive.

He’s fairly certain his notes on the various upcoming celestial events such as the autumnal equinox, full moons, the passing of comets, were at his office, along with several old and yellowed star charts he’d picked up in Prague sometime in the 15th century while searching for Kylo. He hadn’t been able to tarry in the city even though a small part of him longed to do so - he was fascinated by the alchemists' attempts to turn lead into gold. They had it all wrong of course.

Soft footfalls echo behind him in the empty street and he tenses up. Ahead of him, the errant clop of a hoof and click of claws tells him the unseen follower behind him is not alone. The birds have gone silent, perched on his antlers now, they are afraid to leave him. A rasp of laughter and an accompanying hiss have Armitage reaching back to draw out his newly-forged short sword from the scabbard strapped to his back. The steel whispers against the leather as he draws it forth, the flat of the blade gleams in the watery morning light.

The street around him is oddly quiet for this time of the morning. No pedestrians or traffic of any kind fill the street, there’s only the rustle of the wind through the dry leaves of the trees lining the road. Armitage also draws his wand which leaves him fighting with his weaker hand but he vehemently hopes it won’t come to a clash of swords.

“Well, well, my lovely, out all by yourself again?” A sinister voice slithers towards him from somewhere behind him as two Fomorian foot soldiers step out of the gloom of the alley to block his way. Stealthy footfalls are preceded by the hiss of a sword being drawn.

“A shield of light to aid my fight!” Armitage casts the spell and flings it towards the two chimeras slinking towards him so that he can wheel on his third attacker, bringing his sword up just in time to prevent being cleaved in two.

He manages to slash at the Fomorian but his footwork is sloppy and he spins to narrowly avoid being skewered. On the other side of the street, the two other creatures sit up woozily after being hit with the full force of the spell.

The birds have fled the safety of Armitage's antlers and are now trying to aid him by diving and pecking at the Fomorian’s eyes. As the demon swats at them, Armitage presses his advantage. He parries the other’s sword thrust, then jams his wand in between the seams of the fighter’s armour, between the breastplate and the besagew.

“I call down the lightning!” He cries as a peal of thunder rumbles overhead. A fount of blue lightning ripples out of the wand and frissons over the metal of the Fomorian’s armour causing it to convulse as it falls to the pavement.

The birds wheel and dive at the other two Fomorians, who have now struggled to their feet. The one, cloven-hooved and with a pair of ram’s horns, manages to knock the birds aside as it charges at Armitage. 

Armitage dances to the left, magic sparking out of his wand and burning the other Fomorian with clawed feet, while Armitage throws up his right elbow, connecting with the ram-headed creature’s nose with a satisfyingly wet snap. The thing hisses as black ichor gushes down its face. Armitage is jerked backwards as the claw-footed monster grabs his mantle, hauling him off the bloodied one. He manages to dart forward with his antlers to slash at the already-damaged muzzle of the ram’s head before he’s pulled back into the arms of the scaly creature.

“You can’t win.” It hisses, as they cut at each other, their swords grinding and sparking as they connect. “It’s over for you, little god.”

The lizard Fomorian manages to land a lucky blow, slicing through his mantle and shirt to his tender skin. Armitage grits out a scream as the blade bites into the meat of his upper arm, his hand trembles and he nearly loses his grip on his sword. He slashes his wand across the throat of the creature causing it to stumble back, surprise and then fear drawing across its terrible face as it collapses to the ground in a heap.

Above, Fintan and the others have wheeled around in tight formation and have arrowed towards the remaining Fomorian. They swarm it, their sharp-clawed feet clattering over the metal of the Fomorian’s armour, their pointed beaks needling ferociously. Armitage turns from the newly-deceased Fomorian, arm throbbing and covered with ichor, to see Fintan and the other birds knocked aside by a vicious swipe of the Fomorian’s arm. The fiend charges at him, fury plain upon its bloodied face, it doesn’t even bother to prepare for Armitage’s attack. They tangle together and Armitage is able to slow it down with another ripple of lightning then he deftly slips his blade between the plates of armour and between the Fomorian’s ribs.

Horrid understanding dawns on the creature’s face as it sinks to the ground. Armitage quickly yanked his sword out lest he is pulled down with it. In one final act of vicious defiance, the creature strikes out with its claws, tearing Armitage’s mantle off his shoulder, cutting through his shirt and rending the skin from his shoulder across his collarbones, and down his chest, leaving deep gouges. Armitage cries out as bright red blossomings from the rake marks and the creature hisses out a satisfied laugh as it expires at Armitage's feet.

Armitage staggers back a step as the three bodies shudder and turn to ash before his eyes, swirling away in the wind. He’s left alone on the street, chest heaving, body shaking with pain, fear, and exertion. With trembling hands, he slides the wand home in its vambrace, the sword is covered in oily blue-black blood from the attack. Small moans escape his throat as he tries to clean the blade on his ruined mantle; the new sword is now pitted and damaged. As he lifts his hand to dash the tears away that have started to spill from his eyes, a bolt of pain wracked his body and he remembers the injuries to his arm and chest. The birds land softly on his antlers again, cooing to him, attempting to soothe his hurt. Armitage gazes around the now empty street, the trees meander back and forth in the wind, all the stores are still shuttered, it’s as if nothing happened here.

“Right.” Armitage says to himself. There’s no question of going to his office now, not with bloody, torn clothing and a sword coated in ichor.

He takes three stilted steps towards the nearest door, knocks three times and pushes it open to stumble through to the safety and comfort of his bedroom. Staggering into the room, he kicks the door closed and glances up to meet the surprised eyes of a very naked, very damp Kylo, who's obviously just stepped out of the shower.

Kylo takes one long stride, dropping the towel he was using to dry his hair, to catch Armitage by the arms before he collapses. Armitage hisses in pain as Kylo accidentally grabs him around his bicep where the gash from the Fomorian’s sword has him bleeding. Guiding him carefully to the bed, Kylo helps him to sit. He pries the filthy sword from Armitage’s clenched hand and places it on the floor.

“Armitage, are you okay? What happened?” Kylo is frantic as he unpins Armitage’s torn mantle and carefully unwinds it from around his shoulders.

He throws the material to the floor in a sodden heap. His hands flutter over Armitage’s upper body and eventually come to rest on Armitage's cheeks. Cupping his face, Kylo angles Armitage’s gaze towards him and pats his cheek gently.

“Fomorians,” Armitage gasps. “Attacked us on the high street.”

Kylo looks towards the songbirds who are perched along the headboard, their dark eyes riveted to Armitage. They chirrup and trill, filling Kylo in as he quickly unbuttons Armitage’s torn plaid shirt; he listens to them closely, nodding along with their account. He sucks in his breath as he peels the torn fabric away from Armitage’s shoulders. The wounds are still fresh and have not yet begun to congeal so luckily, the soft material of the shirt has not adhered to the gashes on his arm or chest. Kylo adds the ruined shirt to the pile on the floor with a wet slap.

“That was my favourite shirt,” Armitage mumbles numbly, eyes drooping as the adrenaline begins to subside.

“Don’t fall asleep yet, babe.” Kylo holds him carefully as he makes a quick examination of the wounds. “I’ll buy you all the plaid shirts you can wear if you just stay awake for a few minutes more, I just need to clean these.” He glances around their bedroom. “Where’s your wee box of medicines?”

“Beneath the bed.” Armitage kicks his heel back to indicate the location of the box.

Kylo crouches down to fish around under the bed. He drags the small carved wooden box out, brushing off the dust bunnies before he sets it on the bed beside Armitage.

“Should I summon anyone?” He asks as he rummages through the box, coming up with clean linen and a small bottle of distilled alcohol. “Rey? Or, Brigid?”

“No, it is fine, love.” Armitage winces as he moves his arm. The dull, groggy feeling flees as the pain from his injuries courses through him, lighting his body on fire.

“Let me disinfect these first, and then we’ll go stand under the warm water to really wash them out.” Kylo presses an alcohol-soaked cloth to the scratches on Armitage’s chest. He hisses at the sting.

They fall silent while Kylo works. Armitage's mind, dulled by the pain as it is, replays the encounter in detail - he needed to get to his notes. He needs his books and charts from school. Overhead, thunder rumbles ominously in the distance.

“There.” Kylo sits back on his heels. “Let’s get you into the shower and really make sure the wounds are clean of any of the fabric from your clothes.” He clambers to his feet then helps Armitage to stand. “I’m worried this one on your bicep will need stitches.”

Armitage wobbles as he turns his head to look. The slash across his upper arm is indeed long and deep, just as Kylo said. He passes his softly glowing fingers over the wound.

“Stitch and be well. Hold for now.”

The long gouge glitters as a band of light encircles Armitage’s bicep then cools. He feels a slight pressure around his arm as it fades.

“That should stabilize it, for now, love.”

Kylo nods as he helps Armitage divest himself of the rest of his clothing and Armitage himself unbuckles the vambrace and sets it down on the bedside table.

“Shall I carry you, babe?” Kylo attempts a grin but his eyes are stormy. Armitage strokes a hand down Kylo’s arm.

“I can walk.”

Kylo gathers up the bloodied gauze as well as the half-empty bottle of alcohol and then he escorts Armitage slowly through the flat. The songbirds whizz past them into the parlour; they go to the window and between the four of them, manage to pull the drapes closed.

In the white-tiled bathroom, Kylo throws away the used linen and gauze in the bin then helps Armitage into the high-sided clawfoot tub. Before starting the water, he poured the last of the disinfecting alcohol over the various scrapes and scratches, over the gashes and wounds, a silent apology crumpling his face as Armitage whines at the sting.

The warm water of the shower does its work, however, and once the water purling off Armitage’s body turns from a cloudy pink to clear, the sting has begun to fade. Intermittent peals of thunder still roll overhead, betraying Kylo’s calm demeanour. As the water works to gently unknot the tension curled up in Armitage’s muscles and limbs, Kylo huddles up behind him to soothe him with his mere presence, as well as his healing hands. Kylo kneads the muscles in Armitage's neck and carefully massages his hands up and down Armitage’s back, his gentle touch doing more than any medical attention ever could.

As steam fills up the room, Armitage turns in Kylo’s arms so that he can carefully loop his arms around Kylo’s neck. The wounds pull slightly as he moves but once he’s comfortably settled against Kylo’s broad chest, they hardly matter to him at all.

“I should have gone with you,” Kylo whispers as he presses a kiss to Armitage’s mouth.

Armitage pushes Kylo’s sopping wet hair out of his golden-brown eyes, frowning at the guilt he sees there.

“It’s not your fault, love, they caught me unawares.” Armitage pets Kylo’s cheek.

After several kisses and caresses, Kylo doesn’t look any more convinced but the thunder has stopped rolling, so he’s at least calming himself down. He reaches behind Armitage to close the taps then helps him to step over the high side of the tub and onto the fluffy pink bath mat.

Back in the bedroom, Armitage gingerly sits on the edge of the bed as he squeezes the water out of his hair, avoiding snagging the towel in the tines of his antlers; Kylo piles the quilts around Armitage's hips and lap so he’s not too chilled. The songbirds have gathered as close to Armitage as they can, singing him soft songs and gently fluttering their wings over his face and neck - they seem as distressed as Kylo. As Kylo quickly pulls on a pair of black leggings and a tank top, Armitage gathers Fintan, Fionnbarr, Farrell, and Phineas in his hands.

“Please don’t fret, my friends, we are all safe.” He smiles down at their concerned beady eyes. “Thank you for your help today, you were most fearsome.”

The songbirds whistle and chirrup as they return to their perch on his antlers, clearly determined to be close at hand, but they seem to be less ruffled and worried. They chitter loudly to each other as they settle.

“Let me see your arm again.” Kylo moves the medical chest out of the way as he sits beside Armitage, the bed dipping with his considerable bulk.

Armitage holds his arm up for inspection; Kylo grasps his elbow with gentle hands and carefully prods the edge of the wound. He leans closer to sniff at it, grinning up at Armitage when he makes a surprised noise in his throat.

“I’m checking for infection.” He guides Armitage’s arm back down then reaches for the medical chest. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches anymore, we’ll just wrap it well and keep it clean.”

Armitage nods then watches with fascination as Kylo expertly pads then wraps the injury, tying off the cloth strips in tidy little bows. He then tapes up the scratches on Armitage's other shoulder and chest as the sun breaks through the cloud cover and shines down on them through the enchanted ceiling of their bedroom.

“How did you become so skilled at treating injuries, love?” Armitage asks as Kylo closes the lid of the medical chest with a snap. He smiles at Armitage as he sweeps his damp hair off his forehead with his wrist.

“You forget who you’re talking too, babe, I’m the original god-of-all-trades.” He fusses with the bandages around Armitage's bicep. “And besides, when you act as Nuada’s sword arm, you get sliced and diced fairly often.”

Kylo gathers up the chest and rises from the bed; he places the chest on top of the bureau as a reminder to replenish the medicinal supplies later, then he rummages around in one of the drawers. Armitage shuffles further back onto the bed, preparing to burrow down in the familiar-smelling quilts and let his mind ruminate over the day’s developments but Kylo tosses him a pair of briefs and one of Kylo’s own t-shirts. The neck of the shirt is well stretched out so Armitage is easily able to tug it down over his antlers. The birds take flight to wheel about the room, then flutter down to rest on the headboard of the bed. Still at the bureau, Kylo digs out a long-sleeved henley and a hoodie.

“Tell me what you wanted from your office.” Kylo’s voice is muffled as he pulls the hoodie over his head and down across his chest. “I’ll go get it for you.”

“Oh, thank you, love.” Armitage motions for his satchel, which Kylo hands over. “Since it is the weekend, you should encounter no one in the hallways.”

He makes a list of the books and charts he wants from his office while Kylo finds his socks and boots. Armitage kicks his way free of the mountain of quilts and shuffles to standing; Kylo’s shirt is far too large for Armitage’s slight frame, the hem of the shirt falls to his mid-thigh, exposing his long, spindly legs. He tucks the list of items into the pocket of Kylo’s navy peacoat then takes up his wand from the bedside table and quickly inscribes a few Ogham characters upon the white-painted surface of the closet door, opening a pathway for Kylo to travel directly to his office and back. Kylo pecks Armitage on the mouth, then he whistles to the birds.

“Fintan, you’re with me.” Fintan trills his agreement and glides across the room to perch on Kylo’s shoulder. Kylo nods down at the ichor-covered sword on the floor. “I’ll take care of that when I get back, just try to rest.”

With that, Kylo and Fintan disappear through the closet door to complete their errand and Armitage is left with the quiet of the flat as company. Fionnbarr, Farrell, and Phineas flit around the room unsure what to do - they clearly want to keep an eye on Armitage but also to leave him to sleep if he wishes.

“Go, friends, take your ease if you will, I’m in no danger now.” He waves them to the parlour.

Aware that he’ll probably hurt later, Armitage moves carefully around the bedroom, hanging up his satchel on the bedpost, then gathering up his clothing from today. Only the plaid shirt had been damaged beyond repair and he sighs as he puts it aside, he did like that shirt, it made his eyes look very green. He stuffs the rest of his discarded clothes into the hamper to be laundered then, sidestepping around the sword, he gathers up his torn mantle and his ruined shirt and heads to the bathroom. He bins the ruined shirt, not even wanting to wash and sterilize it and use it for bandages, the memories would be too frightful. His mantle, however, is a different matter. His mother had sewn the elaborate garment for him, complete with the gold embroidery and secret pockets, he couldn’t just throw it away. Bundling the mantle into a lump, he leaves it on the lip of the tub to wash later, when his every movement doesn’t pain him so.

Returning through the parlour, he stops to retrieve his notebook from his mahogany-stained escritoire in the corner of the room. Fionnbarr, Farrell, and Phineas chirrup as they follow him back to the bedroom, they perch on the transom window above the door where they can keep their watchful eyes on almost the entire flat. Armitage settles back into bed. He props the book open on his knee and carefully begins to make notes on his encounter with the Fomorian soldiers this morning.

What he had told Kylo was true, they had caught him unawares; that rabble should have never been able to get close enough to inflict damage upon him. Armitage shakes his head at himself. That more than one Fomorian had been able to escape from their watery underworld was surprising, Armitage circles the date at the top of the page as possibly significant.

Armitage leans back against the wall, he hadn’t been part of the Second Battle of Mag Tuired; he was newly born at the time and not anywhere near in control of his powers. His limited experience with them comes from second-hand tales and acting as Kylo’s judge and jury when it came time to punish the disobedient Bres. Still, Armitage wasn’t unfamiliar with the Fomorians and their wily ways.

The soldiers he’d faced this morning past hadn't been well-trained or even that well equipped. In his vague recollections, their armour had not been expertly made and was easily pierced; his own armour, Armitage glances to the rack in the corner of the bedroom with guilty eyes, is well-made, he had been foolish to think he could go without it while he and Kylo lived under a state of semi-siege.

He wouldn’t be making that mistake again.

Armitage flips through his notes. Even with the gaps in his records, caused by not always having access to Rey’s own notes, he can see that the Fomorians have been growing bolder, able to break free from the bonds Kylo and The Dagda had placed on them centuries ago. He circles the dates on various pages. Was a pattern discernable?

He reaches over to grab his wand from the bedside table; the wand glows as it senses his intent.

“_Scriobhann an scríbhneoir._”

Armitage points his wand at the blank cream-coloured wall opposite the bed as sparks pour from the tip. He cups his hands around the little lights and carefully blows them towards the wall, when they land, they glow softly, waiting for his command. He flips through his notes, reading out the various dates of encounters and events, the clever little sparks of light dance across the pale expanse of the wall with their sooty footprints writing down each date and time. When done, they wink out into nothingness.

Even with all the dates displayed, Armitage still can’t discover any pattern. He slumps back against the pillows holding the wand loosely in his hand. Celestial events? The high holidays? Full moons? How were the Fomorians able to slip their chains and make excursions into the countryside?

A low murmur of thunder rumbles in the distance, heralding Kylo’s imminent return through the portal. Armitage sits up eagerly, kicking off the blankets as he does so. He wants Kylo to stay close to him, it’s selfish he knows, but he can’t help it. He didn't want Kylo taking any more unnecessary risks for him, and Armitage won’t be ready to heft a sword for another day or two, best then, to stay home together and spend the time in bed.

The closet door swings open as Fintan darts through, whistling excitedly, followed by a smiling Kylo, arms laden with books. Armitage smiles brightly.

“I’m back,” Kylo says unnecessarily, “and look who I’ve brought.”

Armitage lets loose a strangled shriek as he dives for the safety of the quilts as Rey follows Kylo through the closet door, arms full of Armitage’s requested star charts.

“My love! I’m not wearing any trousers!” Armitage's voice is muffled by the blankets.

“Oh my goddess,” Rey gasps as Kylo laughs. “I’ll go wait in the parlour.”

Peeking out from beneath the blankets, Armitage waits for Rey to hurry out of the room before flinging back the covers and shuffling to his feet. Kylo piles the books onto the bed with a bemused smile.

“Sorry, babe, I thought you’d be decent. Should've known better.” He bounces his eyebrows suggestively. Armitage just rolls his eyes, lightly smacking Kylo on the arm.

“Help me find some trousers, love. If we’re to have guests, I should be dressed.”

Still chuckling to himself, Kylo takes pity on Armitage and goes to fetch him clothing from the bureau. He tosses a pair of polka-dotted pyjama pants at Armitage then hangs his coat up in the closet, kicking his boots off, then closing the door.

Armitage eyes the particoloured pyjamas with a moue of distaste but pulls them on nevertheless. 

“This is undignified.”

Kylo’s eyes travel from his rumpled hair down to the oversized shirt, to the pyjama pants that reveal Armitage’s long, narrow feet. His face softens.

“You could never be,” Kylo says as he leans in for a kiss.

“Uh, guys!” Rey calls from the parlour, “I thought we were pressed for time here? Can you kiss once I’ve gone home?”

Kylo pulls back with a chagrined smile on his face. He gathers the books from the bed so that Armitage, with a wave of his hand, bids the quilts and pillows to organize themselves. With the bed tidied up, Kylo piles the books back on the bed then reaches for the sword.

“I’ll take care of this while you and Rey work.”

Armitage nods his thanks then snaps his glowing fingers at the bloodstains on the wooden floor. “_Glan é._”

At his command, the blue-black blood disintegrates, leaving the floorboards clean and polished once more.

Kylo takes the sword with him as he leaves the room. Armitage re-seats himself on the bed, taking up the first book from the stack Kylo brought from his office.

Rey returns to the bedroom with the rolls of star charts. Her face is pale - Kylo had obviously told her about Armitage's encounter with the Fomorian soldiers. She lays the charts on the bed, sitting beside Armitage as she does so.

“Are you okay?” She moves as if to embrace him, but pulls back for fear of injuring him further, and settles for patting him on the hand.

“I am fine.” Armitage slides the collar of the shirt off his shoulder slightly so she can see the shallow scratches on his collarbone. He lifts the sleeve of his shirt to show her the bandages adorning his arm. “See, all in all, minor injuries.”

Rey frowns, having seen the bloodied sword in Kylo’s hand. “Are you sure you shouldn’t go to the hospital?”

“I will heal in a few days time, I promise.” His face darkens for a moment. “They ruined my favourite shirt and tore my mantle though.”

“Those beasts.” Rey grins, and Armitage is glad to see the relief on her face.

“Now,” He leans back to retrieve one of the rolls of paper. “Help me with this, we need the star charts for this year. Do you happen to have your notes with you?”

“No, I was just returning books to the library so I didn’t bring anything with me when I left my flat.” She takes the charts from Armitage and unfurls them across the floor.

The roll of charts unspools, covering most of the bedroom floor like a carpet. Together, they shuffle through the reams of papers, looking for specific pages.

“Here’s the chart for this year,” Rey says, gently tugging it out from beneath the pile to lay it on top of the rest.

Armitage smooths it out with his hands. “No matter about your notes, the gaps in the sightings and events will be obvious, I think. Oh-” He flips through the pages quickly, “This is only the chart for the full moon, it must have been filed incorrectly, we also need the planetary movements as well.” He unravels another roll of charts. “Ah, here is the rest.”

Together they flip through the charts of phases of the moon, movement of the planets, and a map of the wheel of the year, showing the high holidays.

“So you think these events are linked to something more celestial?” Rey asks.

“I believe so. Look.” He crouches on the floor beside the chart showing the phases of the moon for the year and points to the phase for March. “See, here the moon is a new moon, which corresponds to the weather changing.” With his wand, he points at a date on the wall, highlighting it. “See.”

Working together with the charts and Armitage's notes, they managed to cross off any dates that coincided with a full moon. Kylo returns from the bathroom where he’s been cleaning Armitage's sword, he lounges in the doorway of the bedroom watching them work, Fintan perched on his shoulder.

“What about those last three dates.” Kylo points to the wall.

“Ah yes, those are the three significant events: Rey’s first dream, the first time they followed me, and today’s attack.”

“Well, we’ve just had the Lughnasadh festival a few days ago.” Kylo says, “And then today, the Fomorians made their strongest incursions yet.”

“Oh!” Armitage gasps as Rey quickly looks for the chart with the wheel of the year, “You brilliant beauty.”

Kylo grins, pleased.

“He’s absolutely right,” Rey says, waving the chart around, “Look. The other two events line up with the summer solstice and Beltane.”

“The next festival is Mabon,” Kylo says, an inward-looking expression on his face. “That’s the autumnal equinox.”

“The doorway between our worlds will be the weakest,” Armitage says, feeling cold suddenly. “That must be the date they’ve been waiting for, that’s when they’ll march out.”

The three of them share a look. Armitage glances over his shoulder at his and Kylo’s leather armour hanging on their clothing rack. “I just hope we can be ready in time.”

“We will be,” Kylo says.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Armitage had feared, the other members of the Tuatha Dé Danann will not be coming to aid them in the fight against the encroaching Fomorians - he, Kylo, Rey, and Brigid are on their own. What's four against the darkness? The Fomorians are legion and the fate of Ireland is at stake.

The Fomorians haven’t grown any cleverer in their centuries of exile in the otherworld. Armitage, Kylo, and Rey arrive at the bluffs above the ocean at Drogheda, securing the high ground for themselves easily. The three of them continue to keep watch as the Fomorian army emerges from the roiling sea, the slick from their forges still staining the surface of the water, to assemble loosely on the beach.

Armitage’s new armour fits him like a glove, the leather has been well-worked and is supple and strong. The padded gambeson beneath the armour is still crisp and white which Armitage had a feeling it wouldn’t be by the end of the day, and the leather corset is snug-fitting. Complete with the leather rerebraces, pauldrons, and gorget, he’s quite well protected. The corset has a full, thick skirt that protects his upper thighs. The armourer Kylo had contracted to make their equipment had been worth his weight in gold. Armitage fiddles with the wand and small shield strapped to his left forearm, finding its weight reassuring.

Beside him, Kylo is resplendent in his war footing. His armour is centuries old but tried and true. The armourer, Feargus, had done a remarkable job repairing Kylo’s great sword - _Fragarach_ \- which glints dangerously in the watery light. His shield of leather and bronze had been repaired as well, it looks almost like new; the large, concave disc is too heavy for Armitage to wield effectively, but for Kylo, its weight is nothing. The shield, currently slung across Kylo’s back, covers his entire upper body.

“I can’t believe we have to fight them again.” Kylo grouses under his breath as he glares at the Fomorian ranks raggedly forming on the beach. “How many times do we have to go through this?”

“At least one more time, love.” Armitage tries to smile brightly, but it’s a brittle smile. He is nervous about the coming battle.

“How easily will they go down?” Rey asks. “They don’t look very organized.”

To her credit, Rey stands tall beside Armitage in her borrowed armour. They had broken into the archaeology museum a few days prior and helped themselves to the best pieces the collections had to offer. Rey wouldn’t be persuaded to stay out of the fight so Armitage and Kylo were determined to protect her as best they could - she had a gambeson, a hammered bronze cuirass, as well as a buff coat over the top it all for added protection. She has borrowed Kylo’s quarterstaff and has proven frightfully skilled with it and Armitage knew that she, like himself and Kylo, also has a vast array of hidden blades and daggers on her person.

“The Fomorians aren’t skilled soldiers,” Kylo says. “Usually their only advantage is in numbers, like now.” He nods towards the uneven, unruly lines of the Fomorian vanguard.

“Well, last time, you didn’t have me by your side, love,” Armitage says, taking a deep, centring breath.

The storm clouds are swirling above Kylo’s head, adding to the mist and mither from the ocean. The rumble of chariot wheels sounds from behind them and the three of them turn to see Brigid in her chariot with her bold black and gold horses rattle up beside them. She frowns at the beach and the gathered Fomorian army.

“Ugh, this mither is awful.” She complains, turning to look at Armitage. “Brother, can you not do something about it?”

“I don’t control the weather, Brigid.”

“I do,” Kylo mutters. “But I would only make it worse.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Armitage and Rey burst out into hysterical barks of laughter, the tension of the day wearing at them both. Kylo darts a glance towards Armitage, a smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. The laughter settles and the sounds from the beach wash over them, accompanied by the jingle of the harness of the horses.

“Could you, though?” Armitage says thoughtfully, tapping his wand against his lips. “Make it worse?”

Kylo looks over at Armitage, eyes glittering as he catches the threads of Armitage's plan. Beneath them, the Fomorians have assembled and with a blast of horns, the vanguard begins making its ponderous way up the bluffs towards them. Kylo nods. He raises his hand and the wind begins to pick up at his unseen command. The sky darkens suddenly, turning from a slate gray to a bruised gray-green as the ocean pummels the beach, the waves churning and licking at the heels of the rear guard of the Fomorian army. As the thunder rolls overhead, the fog rolls in from the water in thicker and more impenetrable, obscuring the Fororians from their sight.

Armitage points his wand towards the beach where the dark shapes of the vanguard are only vaguely outlined in the dense fog.

“A shield of red and one of gold return them to their watery abode.”

He flings the spell towards the beach and the gold and red lights fly out in an arc. There’s a deafening pulse where all, even the sea, goes still and quiet as the spell makes contact with the Fomorian mob. When Kylo lifts the storm, they can see that nearly half the Fomorian army has been laid low by the spell, either pushed back into the water or discorporated by it.

The remnants of the army roar and jeer at them, banging their swords on their shields, their war drums beating loudly but Armitage, Kylo, Rey, and Brigid are unmoved.

“That worked so well,” Rey says breathlessly. “Can you do it again?”

“Only variations of the spell and-” Armitage’s eyes widen as the first Fomorians begin to crest the hill, “-there’s no time.” He turns to Brigid. “Sister, can you take Rey with you in your chariot, I would have her be safe and she’ll be a valuable asset to you.”

Brigid nods so Rey eagerly hops aboard, bracing herself at the back of the carriage. With the vanguard mostly destroyed by Kylo and Armitage's combined spellwork, the main guard is scrabbling up the bluffs towards them.

As the first Fomorian soldiers crest the bluff, Brigid snaps the reins and her horses charge forward into the fray. The horses are small and light, swift enough to pull the dawn across the sky, and surprisingly well suited to combat. With an expert hand, she guides the chariot through the mob, knocking Fomorians down, crushing them under the wheels of the chariot, and easily scattering their loose formation. As she wheels back to charge in front of Armitage and Kylo, Rey makes quick work of any unlucky Fomorians to latch onto the back of the chariot. 

A rabble of Fomorians crashes into Kylo and Armitage and they are immediately engulfed. He fights to stay close to Kylo, to stay on his left side to protect him. Together, they circle and deflect, parry, and strike. Armitage slashes and attacks without thought to form, only that he protect Kylo’s vulnerable side. With his small shield, he blocks at attack from a fox-faced Fomorian before sticking him in the ribs with his blade. Fintan, Fionnbarr, Farrell, and Phineas, who could not be persuaded to stay out of the fight either, circle around Armitage's head, diving and pecking at any exposed bit of Fomorian flesh they can get at with their small, sharp beaks.

Brigid's chariot rumbles behind Armitage and he looks up in time to see Rey mow down three Fomorians with a deadly spin of her pike. A shrill cry of triumph spills from her mouth, her face and armour already speckled with blue-black ichor.

“I think she’s having too much fun!” Armitage shouts to Kylo.

Kylo uses his large shield to slam a Fomorian to the ground, he looks up at Armitage, grinning. “No such thing as too much fun, babe.”

Armitage spins gracefully away from the onslaught of Fomorians. He angles his wand towards them. 

“Fly away, fly away, fly away home!”

The gang of Fomorians is violently jerked back from he and Kylo, pulled shrieking by some unseen force back to their watery home. Kylo’s fierce gaze searches for Armitage's.

“This is just like the battle of Dernish Island!” Kylo bellows as he knocks a goat-headed Fomorian aside. “Remember, against Cichol?”

“I do, but we’re significantly outnumbered this time!”

Armitage sends a shaft of blue lightning singing towards another soldier, sliding his blade in between his ribs and twisting, the Fomorians goes down in a burst of ash. The air around them is swirling with the ash from discorporating Fomorians, making visibility low. Kylo darts forward and uses his shield to block three oncoming soldiers who were levelling their spears and swords in Armitage's direction. As he moves, Armitage spins behind Kylo to protect his unguarded side, he disarms a lone Fomorian soldier, then sends it flying back several feet with a spark from his wand.

“Thanks, babe,” Kylo shouts over the melee or screams and battle horns. He spins, wheeling his deadly blade over his head and bringing it down upon an unfortunate Fomorian with a long whip-like reptilian tail. “You always take such good care of me.”

Armitage lashes out with his wand, sending sparks and beads of magic towards a winged variety of Fomorian, the soldier screeches when burned by Armitage's magic.

“Well, someone has to make sure you don’t do anything foolish!”

“Are you referring to that time with Bres?” With his great sword, Kylo directs a bolt of lightning from the low-flying clouds, dispensing a large swath of the Fomorian right flank. 

“I am, love!” Armitage laughs as he and Kylo spin in unison, protecting each other from the seemingly never-ending Fomorian army.

Armitage's sword sticks in the chainmail of a fallen Fomorian so he resorts to slashing out with his antlers as a horrid one-eyed Fomorian charges him. Jerking his sword free, he scrubs at his face, his tunic sleeve coming back stained with ichor. The blood and sweat mix on his skin, coating it with an unpleasant oily sheen, his hair is sweaty and matted with blood, it hangs in clumps in his eyes.

At once, the commotion stops. Kylo stands up from his crouch, tossing his head to get his tangled curls out of his eyes as well. Brigid rumbles up beside them and Rey hops out, her eyes are bright and hectic but she’s otherwise unharmed.

The remnants of the Fomorian main guard fall back as a tall horned figure steps forward. Armitage can feel Kylo bristle with anger beside him.

“Morc.” Kylo all but spits. “Why am I not surprised to find you behind this.”

“Honestly, Kylo, how naive can you be?” Morc sneers. “You had to know we’d be back to claim our rightful land again.”

“If I were you, Morc, I’d be asking for a parley right about now.”

The Fomorian general snorts. “You’re outnumbered.”

“I think you’ll find that we’ve defeated over half your army already,” Armitage says. “You’d be wise to take Kylo’s offer of negotiation.”

“Never.” Morc spits at Armitage, his eyes flashing. “We’ll never stop-”

He grunts and looks slowly down. A dagger sticks out of his armour, having pierced his heart, the breastplate of his armour sticky with blue-black blood. Morc swipes at the blade ineffectively, coughing and choking he dropped to his knees and slumps to the ground. 

Armitage and Kylo turn slowly in unison to look at Rey, arm still outstretched from where she’d launched one of her skians. She meets their gaze boldly.

“What? It was a boring conversation anyway.” 

Armitage can’t help but stare open-mouthed. His acolyte just dispatched the fearsome Fomorian general, something Nuada, The Dagda, and even Kylo himself had failed to do in all their many clashes with the Fomorians. Kylo’s laugh rumbles deep in his chest as he braces himself on his knees.

“Boring, indeed.” He laughs, a hysterical edge of his voice.

“Guys, we still have company.” Rey points down the bluff where the dregs of the main guard have marshalled with the tattered rearguard and have begun their last advance.

“Come on, little sister, with me,” Brigid calls out. Rey darts forward and retrieves her dagger from Morc’s chest and leaps into the chariot. With a flick of the reigns, they thunder towards the ragged army.

Even without Morc, lower-ranked Fomorians lieutenants are trying vainly to fill the void left by their general. As their war drums rumble and horns sound, they renew the assault, charging up the bluff to meet Kylo, Armitage, and the hooves of Brigid’s horses. The sound of the battle is deafening, Armitage’s ears ache with the sound of it.

Desperate now, the Fomorians are feverish in their attacks, leaving Kylo and Armitage no time for friendly banter. Armitage settles into the difficult task of routing his enemy thoroughly. With his sword he slashes and attacks, alternating with his wand he throws spells at the Fomorians, knocking them down or sending them back to the sea. Beside him, Kylo is white-faced and resolute as he whips up the storm vortex swirling above them. He sends thunder and lightning after the Fomorians, chasing them back to the water. With his greatsword, he cuts through the ranks of the oncoming army.

As the Fomorians begin to truly realize the battle is lost, they retreat, scrambling over each other to return to the safety of the water and their otherworldly home. Armitage and Kylo manage to capture an escaping Fomorian captain, his sharp teeth bite and his claws swipe at them as he hisses furiously, pinned in place by one of Armitage’s spells.

“You may have defeated us but you know what’s next.” He hisses cryptically before wriggling free of the spell and sounding his horn.

Before they can stop him, the call is taken up by the remaining Fomorian leadership. The chimerical creatures retreat into loose formation on the beach, banging on their shields and taunting Kylo and Armitage.

Brigid and Rey return to them, the horses are now lathered in sweat, their flanks white from the exertion. The songbirds sail in wide circles overhead, acting as lookouts for Armitage.

“What was all that about?” Armitage asks Kylo, who shrugs, never taking his eyes off the roiling water.

As the water boils and churns, a vast dark shape can be seen surfacing. As the figure breaks the surface, the Fomorian ranks cheer louder. Rey gasps as the skeletal figure emerges from the water and skitters up the beach. Standing tall above the other Fomorians, the giant carries a club and sword, its skeletal form belies its strength. The head, however, is curiously veiled.

“Oh, gods.” Brigid moans.

Kylo slams his sword into the ground in anger. “Not again, Balor! This will be the last time we meet, I promise.”

Balor’s laugh booms out over the beach as the Fomorians jeer.

“Balor of the Baleful Eye,” Armitage says faintly. As if one of Kylo’s lightning bolts had struck him, Armitage reels as he recalls the horrid eye from his visions. He glances frantically around.

“Everyone, to me, quickly.”

Kylo, Rey, and Brigid gather around him as below them on the beach, Balor drags himself out of the sucking mire and sludge churned up on the foreshore.

Armitage wrenches his small shield off his forearm and hands it to Rey. Taking hold of Kylo’s large, leather and bronze shield, he taps the centre disk and a bright, white light seeps out from the wand and spreads to cover the surface of the shield.

“Mirror, mirror, burning bright, protect him from Balor’s terrible sight.”

The surface of the shield glimmers and ripples and the white light fades away to reveal a new mirrored surface reflecting Armitage's terrified face up at him.

“Here,” He takes the small shield from Rey. “You cannot let Balor look upon you with his poisonous eye.” He raps on the surface of her shield in three spots and whispers a different version of the spell. The small, round shield fogs over then clears to reveal another gleaming mirrored surface.

He aims his wand at Brigid’s chariot and the enchanted surface of the carriage slowly crystallizes into yet another mirrored surface. The spell works its way along the reins and harness of the horses, creating mirrored blinders for the black and gold horses. Brigid leaps into the chariot and wheels it around so that the horses are at least facing away from Balor’s terrible gaze, she then draws her short sword and cuts the harness, freeing the two horses from the chariot. She cuts away as much of the dangling leather harness as she can, leaving only the bridles in place with their mirrored blinders on to protect Daithi and Aedat’s eyes from Balor’s frightful gaze. She whispers something into their ears and the two horses bob their sleek heads then canter off, hiding behind a bit of collapsed stone wall; she then takes shelter behind the high walls of the carriage, the deadly short sword drawn and ready.

“Armitage, get behind me,” Kylo demands as he holds the large shield up in front of him, stomping out with his right leg, he brandishes his greatsword.

Rey takes up a position on Kylo’s left. Armitage, without a shield, takes a step back to use Kylo’s shield for protection. The Fomorian war drums kick up again as Balor, fully out of the water now, begins charging up the beach to spider his way up the bluff, his manic laughter is terrifying. The remnants of the Fomorian army swarm behind him, ready to sweep over Armitage, Kylo, Rey, and Brigid once Balor’s terrible eye has done its job.

“Kylo.” Armitage whispers, “Do you have any more daggers?” 

Kylo nods without taking his eyes off Balor’s approach. He slides _Fragarach_ into its sheath between his shoulder blades, and removes a wickedly sharp skian from within the folds of his armour.

“Rey, take my sword.” Armitage exchanges it for her pike. He readies his wand. “Kylo, my love, you know where to aim. Rey, do as you did with Morc.”

They wait, muscles bunched and tense, waiting for Balor to crest the bluffs. Balor is moving fast now, his club gouging deep troughs into the earth where he swings it, his footfalls shake the very earth. He roars and triumphant cry as he looms closer.

“Hold until the time is right,” Armitage whispers.

Balor laughs with unhinged delight as he climbs the bluff. “Kylo, I’ve waited so long for this day.” He grips his club tight in his hand, ready to swing.

As he clambers to the top of the dune, he reaches for the veil. Moving as one, Kylo and Rey pull back their arms and launch their blades at him in one smooth motion. The two daggers arc high into the air, weak sunlight glinting off their polished surfaces. Armitage lunges forward and casts a bright ribbon of light to aid the trajectory of the blades.

The gleaming ribbon of light lifts the blades higher as they spin. Kylo’s dagger sinks itself into Balor’s horrid yellow eye, stopping the poisoned glance from destroying everything in its path. Rey’s sword buries itself in Balor’s heart, finishing the job Kylo started centuries ago. They crouched down behind the safety of their mirrored shields, watching horror-struck as Balor screams and writhes before toppling over. He twitches in ghastly, painful death throes, his back arching violently before dissolving into a pile of ash and bone.

The remaining Fomorians, earlier so confident in their champion, now bereft of him and their generals, turn and flee into the sea.

They watch them go until the beach and bluffs are nothing more than an empty, bloodied, destroyed stretch of land. The ocean bubbles and roils where they entered, the last dregs of the oily sheen from their foundries slicking the beach.

Kylo drops to the ground, pulling Armitage with him, and they sit abruptly and heavily. Kylo buries his sweaty, grimy face in Armitage’s equally sweaty, grimy neck and holds him tight. Rey sits beside him, laying her pike on the ground beside her. Kylo flings an arm around her shoulders and pulls her in for an embrace; her small hand finds Armitage’s and gives it a reassuring squeeze. Brigid drops to her knees on the other side and presses a kiss to Armitage’s cheek. He pulls back an inch from Kylo to look at her; she’s covered from head to waist in muck and dirt kicked up by her horses, he ruffled her hair, trying to smooth it back but it's a tangled birds nest of sweat and debris. The scrape of a hoof over stones echo behind them and Daithi and Aedat, trot over to snuffle at Brigid’s hair and neck, reassuring themselves that she is unharmed. Armitage smiles and sits back in Kylo’s lap so he can get at his wand.

“_Úll le do thoil_.”

A perfect, round red apple materializes in his hand. Brigid takes it with a grin and breaks it in half; she offers the pieces to her faithful horses.

Armitage returns his gaze to Kylo; he smooths the tangled, filthy curls out of his eyes and tucks the locks behind his ears. Kylo cups Armitage’s chin with his free hand, the other is still wrapped around Rey’s shoulders.

“Well,” He says, voice is ragged and raw from the battle. “That’s how you win a war.”

Armitage, Rey, and Brigid huff tired, weak laughs. 

“I daresay, my love. I pray that we never have to do it again.” Armitage presses his forehead against Kylo’s, smiling and pressing a tiny kiss to the tip of his nose.

Brigid sits back, resting her elbows on her knees. She scratches her fingers through her tangled hair, pulling out bits of leaves and twigs. The songbirds, finished their flight over the water to make sure the Fomorians are well and truly gone, return to perch on Armitage’s and Kylo’s shoulders

“So ended the First Battle of Drogheda, I suppose,” Brigid says, collapsing onto her back in the muddy, churned up grass.

“In a way. I pray it will be the last.” Armitage says. “May it soon pass into legend.”

He shuffles himself off Kylo’s lap to sit beside him on the muddy, torn up grass. With a groan, he thumps back onto the ground followed by Kylo, Rey, and Brigid and together, they watch the heavy, gray skies finally clear and behind the clouds, the soft blue of the late September sky can be seen. Armitage closes his eyes as the sun warms his face for what feels like the first time in years. He slips his hand into Kylo’s, lacing their fingers together, he squeezes tight.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fomorian threat now vanquished, the storm clouds and gray skies that had been banked over Dublin for months have now cleared. Dublin returns to its usual seasonal splendour and none but three residents of the city know the true reason for the sudden change. A few months after the First Battle of Drogheda, Armitage and Kylo return to Armitage's palace on the Boyne to greet the winter solstice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the last chapter! This story was a labour of love and so I thank you a thousand times for reading along with me. I'm rather sad to close the book on this version of Armitage and Kylo, I'm not ready to let them go so who knows, there could be a third story in the future or a collection of shorter stories. Thank you for making Irish gods Armitage and Kylo part of your year!

The people of Dublin would long talk about the summer that never arrived. It would forever be an enduring mystery to all but three people and four songbirds. With the dissolution of the Fomorian threat, the heavy gray skies finally cleared and Dublin was treated to perfect autumn weather - crisp, blue skies, fresh and bracing breezes, and a beautiful display of fall foliage. The gardens and churchyards were simply awash in a brilliant patchwork of reds and oranges, vibrant yellows and warm browns - it was as if the trees and flowers were making up for the lost summer.

Perfect autumn weather gave way gracefully to a gentle, picturesque winter. Bright blue skies fade to white as fluffy, downy snowflakes fell from the sky, blanketing the city, making the lights on the Ha’penny Bridge glow that much brighter.

Armitage gently pushes open the door, peaks out into the gloom, then motions for Kylo to follow him. Together, they step up the brief incline and leave the passage mound where Armitage had opened the portal. They cross the snowy field toward Armitage’s palace; Brú na Bóinne is snow-covered and even more resplendent and mysterious-looking in the low winter light.

“Big crowd this year,” Kylo notes as they skirt around the excited guests, all of whom have won a lottery to watch the arrival of the winter solstice from inside the foyer of Armitage’s palace.

“They’re right to be so excited,” Armitage replies as they walk around to the back of the mound and begin to cautiously scramble up its snowy sides. “They came so close to subjugation at the hands of the Fomorians, it’s only right that they should be here giving thanks.”

“It looks like some of them are, at least.” Kylo points to a few of the gathered people who are holding gift bags and others who are toasting with mulled wine, tea, or hot chocolate. A couple of the attendees have ivy and holly crowns on their heads.

The songbirds take flight and join two swallows in darting around the field in front of the great monument.

Kylo shakes out a pile of blankets from his enspelled duffle bag. He helps Armitage to sit, then lowers himself to the blankets, pulling Armitage close as he does. Armitage hooks his chin over Kylo’s shoulder, tickling his ear with his quiet puffs of breath. They sit with the peace of the small hours of the morning; only the muffled sounds of the tourists here to greet the dawn and the singing of the birds break the crisp silence of the winter morning. As the tourists ascend the stairs that will take them up into the passage mound for the solstice event, Kylo breaks their quiet contemplation.

“I remember,” He says, tilting his head so that Armitage can kiss his cheek. “When you stole ownership of this place away from The Dagda.”

Armitage presses another kiss to the corner of Kylo’s smiling mouth then lightly drags his lips up to Kylo’s ear to nip at the shell of it, causing Kylo to shiver. “Ah, yes. He was so angry, he didn’t speak with me except through Boann for almost a century.”

“I know,” Kylo says, breathlessly, squeezing Armitage’s knee. “He used to visit Manannán to complain about you constantly.”

“One of the best hundred years of my life,” Armitage says, rubbing his lips along Kylo’s jaw. “So far.”

The songbirds return from their flight around the fields to perch on Armitage’s antlers. Below, the tourists have entered the passage mound and a hushed silence has fallen over the valley. Kylo turns to capture Armitage’s chin with his fingertips so that he can kiss him thoroughly and deeply as the low winter sun crests the treeline; the vibrant red-gold rays arch across the field to shine directly upon them as the winter solstice begins.


End file.
